THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


MARJORIE'S   MOONLIGHT  WALK 

"  She  heard  the  unmistakable  approach  of  horses'  feet  in  the  distance." 

(See  page  49.) 


BY 


(Mus.  G.  K.  ALDKN) 

AUTHOR  OF  "  ESTER  RIEU,"  "  HEU  ASSOCIATE  MEMBERS,'1 
"  ONLY  TEN  CENTS,"  "  WANTED,"  ETC. 


f- e/«w-- 


ILLUSTRATED 


BOSTON 

LOTH  HOP  PUBLISHIN(T  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1895, 

BY 
I-OTHROF  PUBLISHING  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved. 


PANSY 

TRADE-MARK  REGISTERED  JUNE  4,  1895 


?$ 

2520 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I.  PAGB 

Waiting I 

CHAPTER  II. 

A  Victim 12 

CHAPTER  III. 

An  Opportunity 24 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Perplexities  and  Decisions 36 

CHAPTER  V. 

Shadows  and  "  Charms  " 47 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Home-Comings 59 

CHAPTER  VII. 

"  What  Next  ?  " 71 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  The  Young  Man  has  Come  " 82 

CHAPTER  IX. 

"  Poor  Ralph  " 94 

CHAPTER  X. 

AMarkedDay     106 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Reaping  Thorns 120 

CHAPTER  XII. 

A  Young  Man  of  Moods 133 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Living  Below  One's  Privileges 147 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Look  Backward  and  Forward. .  160 


CONTENTS. 
CHAPTER  XV. 

PAGE 

A  Surprising  Decision 173 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
As  Others  See  Us 188 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
The  "  Best  Thing" 202 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
"Isn't  it  Fun'' 216 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
"  You  Pray  '' 229 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Questions  Needing  Answers 244 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  Give  me  what  I  Need  " 258 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

An  Evening  of  Decisions 272 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

Principles  and  Professions. . . 287 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Sentimentalism  and  Fanaticism 301 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

Opportunities 315 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

Robbie 331 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

"  Old  Acquaintances '' 345 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  Fateful  Evening 359 

*  CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  Everything  has  Happened  " 373 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
" Talking  it  Over" 385 


MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  I. 

WAITING. 

MRS.  EDMONDS  had  tried  every  chair  in  the 
room,  from  the  straight-backed  uncompromising 
one  nearest  to  the  dining-room  to  the  wide-armed 
"  Sleepy  Hollow  "  in  the  alcove,  bnt  none  of  them 
fitted  her  restless  mood.  Twice  she  had  resolutely 
settled  herself  on  the  wide,  old-fashioned,  pillowy 
lounge,  arranged  the  pillows  at  head  and  back  with 
infinite  pains,  drawn  the  bright-colored  afghan 
over  her  and  resolved  to  rest;  only  to  spring  up 
again  in  five  minutes  and  renew  her  walk  up  and 
down  the  room,  broken  only  by  a  pause  to  peer 
out  first  at  the  western  and  then  at  the  southern 
windo  .  It  was  a  pleasant  enough  prospect  out 
side.  The  rain  had  been  falling  in  torrents,  and 
the  little  river  which  it  had  made  still  gurgled 
down  the  gutters,  glistening  in  the  brilliant  moon 
light.  The  street  Avas  quite  still.  During  the 
hours  which  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  waited  there  had 
been  the  sound  of  many  feet ;  and  the  sound  had 


2  MAKING  FATE. 

been  listened  to  by  this  woman  as  though  her  hope 
of  life  depended  on  her  finding  the  footstep  she 
waited  for.  Occasionally  there  had  been  one  so 
like  what  she  sought,  that  she  held  her  breath  for 
it  to  draw  near,  and  pass;  all  the  while  her  swift- 
beating  heart  telling  her  that  if  it  had  been  the 
footstep  she  would  have  known  it,  oh,  as  far  away 
as  the  sound  could  reach  her  ! 

Yet  still  she  waited  for  each  new  one  in  the  same 
breathless,  hopeful  way.  As  the  hours  waned,  the 
passers  by  grew  less  and  less  frequent,  until  now 
the  most  belated  traveler  seemed  to  have  reached 
home  ;  and  she  was  still  waiting  ! 

She  turned  from  the  window  once  more,  and  the 
odor  of  coffee  reached  her  ;  it  seemed  to  be  hateful 
to  her ;  she  went  swiftly  and  closed  the  door  which 
led  from  the  dining-room  into  the  little  kitchen, 
leaving  the  tiny  coffee-pot  to  its  fate. 

They  were  pretty  rooms,  sitting  and  dining-room, 
with  folding  doors  between.  The  doors  were 
rolled  back  out  of  sight,  and  the  portieres  so  looped 
as  to  give  a  view  of  a  dining-table  daintily  laid 
for  two  people,  who  must  both  have  had  very  refined 
tastes.  The  napery  was  fine  and  fresh,  the  china 
delicate  and  the  silver  sterling.  The  Edmonds 
family  had  lived  nearly  always  in  a  larger  house 
than  this ;  their  table  had  been  drawn  out,  often 
full  length,  and  was  wont  to  be  surrounded  by 
merry,  happy  people. 

Time  and  change  had  left  only  two,  and  the 
table  had  to  be  closed  to  its  smallest ;  but  there 


WAITING.  3 

seemed  no  reason  why  the  family  heirlooms  in  silver 
and  china  should  be  laid  away ;  so  the  table  was 
pretty,  as  of  old.  Mrs.  Edmonds  surveyed  its 
prettiness  almost  with  a  groan.  She  had  allowed 
herself  to  become  so  nervous  over  possibilities, 
that  all  her  dainty  preparations  for  a  late  supper 
looked  like  so  many  mockeries.  Still,  she  went 
once  more  and  sat  down  in  the  "  Sleepy  Hollow," 
drawing  a  wrap  about  her  and  resolving  to  be 
reasonable.  "What  could  have  happened?"  she 
asked  herself  for  the  hundredth  time ;  "  not  an 
accident,  surely ;  because  there  were  so  many  of 
them,  that  we  should  have  heard  of  it  before  this 
time.  As  for  their  not  starting  for  home  to-night, 
that  is  nonsense.  Don't  I  know  that  I  would 
never  be  left  here  alone  ?  More  than  that,  she 
promised." 

Her  mental  argument  was  interrupted  by  the 
sound  of  footsteps  overhead,  and  her  thoughts  were 
turned  into  a  new  channel.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  at 
home  then ;  she  had  not  heard  a  sound  from  his 
room  before.  He  must  have  let  himself  in  when 
she  went  to  the  coal  closet  for  that  lump  of  coal. 
It  was  strange  he  was  up  so  late,  or  rather  so 
early, — for  the  little  clock  on  the  dining-room 
mantel  at  that  moment  murmured  in  soft,  silvery 
tones  :  "  One,  two  !  "  They  struck  terror  to  the 
watcher's  heart.  It  was  actually  two  o'clock,  and 
Marjorie  for  the  first  time  in  all  her  nineteen  years 
was  away  from  her  ! 

The  mother  started  abruptly,  and  giving  herself 


4  MAKING  FATE. 

no  more  time  for  thought,  made  her  way  with  all 
speed  up  the  long  flight  of  stairs,  and  knocked  at 
her  lodger's  door.  What  if  he  was  a  comparative 
stranger,  having  been  settled  in  her  best  front  room 
less  than  a  month?  He  was  a  man,  and  would 
know  what  should  be  done  in  an  emergency ;  and 
she  really  could  not  endure  this  suspense  longer. 
Visions  of  what  Marjorie  might  say  concerning  this 
appeal  to  the  lodger  in  her  behalf  crossed  the 
troubled  mother's  brain  as  she  sped,  but  she  reso 
lutely  put  them  aside,  and  knocked  at  the  closed 
door.  It  was  opened  on  the  instant,  and  Mr. 
Maxwell,  fully  dressed  and  looking  as  though  he 
had  not  thought  of  sleep  that  night,  stood  before 
her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  she  said,  speaking  hur 
riedly,  "  but  I  am  so  worried  about  my  daughter 
that  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  I  heard  your  step 
just  now,  and  determined  to  come  and  advise 
with  you. 

The  door  was  opened  wider,  and  Mr.  Maxwell 
reached  forth  and  took  the  little  night  lamp  from 
a  hand  which  trembled,  at  the  same  time  he  mo 
tioned  toward  an  easy-chair. 

"  Come  in,  Mrs.  Edmonds,  and  have  a  seat  while 
yoa  tell  me  how  I  can  serve  you.  Your  daugher 
is  not  ill,  I  hope  ?  " 

"Oh  no, --why,  I  don't  know  what  she  is!  I 
have  thought  that  perhaps  she  had  been  taken  sud 
denly  ill ;».  but  there  were  eight  of  them  ;  they  can- 
n'ot  all  be  ill,  and  surely  they  would  have  come  for 


WAITING.  5 

her  mother."  All  of  which  did  not  enlighten  Mr. 
Maxwell. 

"  She  is  not  at  home,  then  ?  "  he  ventured. 

Thus  helped,  Mrs.  Edmonds  gathered  her  wits 
and  explained. 

A  party  of  eight  including  her  daughter  had 
started  that  morning  on  a  nutting  expedition.  At 
the  Schuyler  farm,  seven  miles  out,  they  were  to 
be  joined  by  the  young  people  there,  and  go  on  to 
the  extreme  southern  part  of  the  Schuyler  woods, 
some  five  or  six  miles  farther.  The  plan  had  been 
to  return  to  the  Schuylers  for  an  early  tea,  after 
which  the  guests  were  to  drive  home  by  moonlight. 
But  they  were  to  have  been  at  home  by  ten  at  the 
latest ;  indeed  Marjorie  had  exclaimed  over  that 
hour  and  said  that  she  must  be  at  home  by  nine. 
"  And  now,"  Mrs.  Edmonds  finished  hurriedly,  her 
face  paling  over  the  thought,  "  it  is  after  two 
o'clock,  and  I  know  something  has  happened  to 
them.  What  can  I  do?" 

Mr.  Maxwell  essayed  to  comfort  her. 

"  You  have  forgotten  the  storm,"  he  said  cheer 
ily.  "It  doubtless  came  up  just  at  the  time  they 
were  to  start ;  and  it  rained  very  hard,  you  remem 
ber  ;  moreover,  the  storm  lasted  a  remarkably  long 
time." 

No,  she  had  forgotten  nothing ;  she  knew  just 
when  the  first  flash  of  lightning  came,  and  just  how 
long  the  rain  continued;  and  just  how  brilliant  the 
moonlight  had  been  since  the  storm  was  over. 
Ample  time  for  them  to  have  reached  home  two 


0  MAKING  FATE. 

hours  ago,  even  though  they  had  not  started  until 
the  sky  was  entirely  clear  again,  "  You  forget," 
she  said  pitifully,  "  that  it  will  soon  be  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Do  you  know  the  road  to 
the  Schuyler  farm,  Mr.  Maxwell?  There  is  a 
bridge  to  cross,  about  five  miles  out,  over  a  very 
ugly  stream  of  water  ;  the  embankments  there  are 
very  high,  and  the  sides  of  the  bridge  are  not  pro 
tected  ;  more  than  that,  I  think  I  have  heard  some 
body  say  that  the  bridge  is  unsafe.  It  is  possible 
that  they  may  have  driven  over  the  side, — or  the 
bridge  may  have  fallen  and  they  may  all  be  in  peril 
together." 

He  made  haste  to  reassure  her.  Oh,  no,  indeed; 
he  knew  the  bridge  well  ;  was  over  it  indeed 
not  twelve  hours  ago  ;  it  was  perfectly  safe  ;  and 
no  driver  in  his  senses  would  be  in  danger  of  driv 
ing  off  the  embankment.  Had  the  party  not  a 
reliable  driver  ? 

Mrs.  Edmonds  admitted  that  Mr.  Ralph  Bramlett 
was  the  driver  ;  that  he  drove  his  father's  horses 
and  was  perfectly  accustomed  to  them  ;  but  then 
they  were  spirited  animals  and  were  doubtless 
afraid  of  lightning  ;  many  horses  were  ;  and  if 
nothing  had  happened  to  them,  why  had  they  not 
reached  home  long  ago  ? 

Then  Mr.  Maxwell  had  another  idea.  Was 
not  the  Schuyler  farm  the  hospitable  mansion 
where  so  many  }7oung  people  were  entertained  ? 
He  had  heard  that  it  was  the  custom  for  large  par 
ties  from  town  to  spend  several  days  there.  Un- 


WAITING.  7 

doubtedly  this  nutting  party  detained  by  the  storm 
had  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  Schuylers  to 
spend  the  night,  and  take  an  early  morning  ride.  It 
would  have  been  a  perfectly  reasonable  thing  to  do, 
because  they  probably  feared  another  storm,  and 
besides,  they  would  naturally  dislike  to  disturb 
several  families  by  coming  home  at  a  late  hour. 
In  fact  the  more  he  thought  about  it,  the  more 
certain  he  was  that  there  was  no  occasion  for 
anxiety;  her  daughter  was  undoubtedly  sleeping 
quietly. 

Then  Mrs.  Edmonds  rose  up  and  reached  for  her 
lamp,  and  her  voice  had  a  dignified  tinge  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Maxwell,  I  ought  not 
to  have  disturbed  you  ;  of  course  you  cannot  be 
expected  to  understand.  I  am  sure  you  mean  to 
comfort  me,  but  my  daughter  would  not  for  one 
moment  have  consented  to  spending  the  night 
away  from  home,  and  leaving  me  in  suspense  and 
anxiety  concerning  her.  Even  if  she  had  not 
promised,  she  would  not  have  done  such  a  thing  ; 
but  her  last  words  to  me  were  that  she  should  be  at 
home  before  ten.  I  knew  the  storm  must  detain 
them,  however,  and  rested  quietly  until  near  mid 
night  ;  but  the  sky  has  been  entirely  clear  since  a 
little  before  ten.  There  is  no  conceivable  reason 
except  by  accident  which  could  have  kept  my 
daughter  from  me  ;  but  of  course  you  do  not  under 
stand." 

He  intercepted  her  hand  and  took  charge  of  the 
little  lamp  again. 


8  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Let  me  carry  it  down  for  you,"  he  said  cheerily. 
I  still  think  you  have  no  cause  for  anxiety  ;  the 
company  was  too  large  not  to  be  able  to  be  heard 
from  in  some  way  before  this  time,  in  case  of  acci 
dent.  Still,  I  really  can  understand  something 
of  a  mother's  feelings.  I  have  a  dear  mother  of 
my  own.  I'll  tell  you  what  we  will  do,  Mrs. 
Edmonds.  If  you  will  lie  down  and  rest,  I'll  mount 
my  horse  and  take  a  trip  toward  the  Schuyler  farm 
and  learn  the  facts.  I  was  making  ready  for  a  very 
early  start  in  another  direction,  and  Selim  will  be 
saddled  and  bridled  waiting  for  me  ;  but  I  can 
easily  make  the  trip  later,  or  wait  until  another 
day  for  that  matter." 

Up  to  that  moment  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  not  shed 
a  tear,  but  at  the  sound  of  the  sympathetic  voice, 
planning  a  scheme  that  would  at  least  relieve  her 
of  this  terrible  suspense,  she  lost  for  the  moment 
her  carefully  trained  self-control  and  broke  into  a 
fit  of  weeping.  Mr.  Maxwell  made  no  attempt  to 
restrain  the  tears  ;  lie  gently  seated  the  trembling 
lady  in  the  chair  from  which  she  had  risen, 
then  went  briskly  about  his  room,  making  final 
preparations  for  departure,  talking  cheerily  the 
while. 

"  It  will  be  a  very  short  ride  out  to  the  farm, 
Mrs.  Edmonds,  for  Selim  and  me ;  and  by  the 
time  you  have  had  one  nap  we  shall  be  back  here 
with  good  news  from  the  truants.  Young  people 
cannot  always  be  depended  upon  for  excellent 
judgment  ;  and  your  daughter,  remember,  may 


WAITING.  9 

have  had  difficulty  in  making  so  large  a  part}7" 
see  with  her  eyes." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mrs.  Edmonds,  rising 
again,  and  resolutely  pushing  back  the  tears,  "  I 
must  seem  very  weak  to  you ;  but  indeed  I  am  not 
in  the  habit  of  being  without  my  daughter.  I 
ought  not  to  allow  you  to  put  aside  your  plans  for 
the  sake  of  relieving  my  anxiety ;  my  daughter 
would  be  shocked  at  such  a  thought.  I  presume 
it  may  be  as  you  think  ;  and  yet " 

She  did  not  finish  her  sentence  aloud.  In  her 
heart  she  said  that  Marjorie  would  have  no  diffi 
culty  in  controlling  the  movement  of  Ralph 
Bramlett ;  that  he  was  only  too  willing  to  do  as 
she  wished,  and  that  he  controlled  the  horses.  But 
of  course  this  could  not  be  said  aloud.  Mr.  Max 
well  finished  the  sentence  for  her. 

"And  yet,  certainty  is  better  than  surmise,"  he 
said,  brightly,  "  I  know  it ;  we  will  very  soon  relieve 
your  mind.  Do  not  be  troubled  about  disarranging 
my  plans,  Mrs.  Edmonds ;  I  assure  you  it  is  of  no 
consequence ;  I  have  no  business  which  cannot  as 
well  be  done  another  day  if  that  were  necessary. 
Now  I  am  ready ;  and  you  will,  I  am  sure,  remem 
ber  your  part  of  the  contract  and  try  to  rest.  May 
I  help  to  rest  you  by  a  reminder  that  your  daughter 
is  in  the  care  of  One  who  cannot  be  overcome  by 
accidents  of  any  sort?  " 

"  Oli,  I  know  it,"  she,  said  gratefully.  "  You 
will  think  me  very  foolish,  but  there  have  been 
times  to-night  when  I  believe  I  should  have  lost 


10  MAKING  FATE. 

my  reason  if  I  could  not  have  stayed  my  fears 
with  that.  I  am  so  unused  to  being  without  my 
child ;  we  have  been  all  in  all  to  each  other  for 
thirteen  years.  And  yet,  what  is  my  trust  worth  ? 
There  came  a  time  when,  as  you  see,  I  could  wait 
no  longer?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  that  is  the  way  we 
trust  Him.  Yet  He  bears  with  us.  I  read  with 
great  satisfaction,  only  yesterday,  the  story  of 
Gideon.  Do  you  remember  how  many  times  the 
Lord  strengthened  his  wavering  faith  by  a  sign  ? 
We  all  like  props  of  this  kind.  I  think  I  can 
bring  you  word  in  an  hour  at  the  latest,  Mrs. 
Edmonds." 

She  stood  in  the  hall  noting  the  sound  of  his 
retreating  footsteps;  she  listened  to  their  brisk 
ring  until  they  were  lost  in  the  distance.  She  was 
alone  again  ;  but  her  throat  felt  less  dry,  the  tears 
had  relieved  it ;  her  heart  did  not  seem  to  beat 
in  such  oppressive  thuds.  Yes,  undoubtedly  she 
liked  human  props.  How  kind  he  had  been,  and 
how  quick  !  The  swiftness  of  his  movements  had 
had  a  soothing  effect  upon  her ;  at  least  this  sick 
ening  suspense  with  its  opportunity  to  conjecture 
all  sorts  of  horrible  possibilities  would  soon  be 
over.  He  would  bring  her  word.  And  he  was 
good,  too.  How  strong  that  reminder  was,  about 
the  One  who  had  her  daughter  in  charge !  Oh 
the  mother  trusted  Him.  What  would  her  years  of 
widowhood  have  been  without  His  mighty  Arm  to 
lean  upon  !  If  only  He  were  her  daughter's  trust, 


WAITING.  11 

well.  And  if No,  she  would  not  finish  that  as 

thought ;  loyalty  to  her  daughter  should  make 
her  put  it  away.  What  was  Mr.  Maxwell  but  a 
stranger,  come  for  a  few  weeks  to  pay  a  good  price 
for  their  vacant  room.  And  Ralph  Bramlett  had 
grown  up  with  Marjorie,  and  been  always  her 
friend.  Why  should  she  for  a  moment  allow  her 
self  to  wish  that  he  were  like  Mr.  Maxwell  ? 

She  sat  down  in  her  reading  chair,  and  drew  the 
shaded  lamp  towards  her.  She  had  not  promised 
to  try  to  sleep  ;  she  knew  better  than  to  try.  She 
did  not  remember  the  story  of  Gideon  very  well ; 
she  wanted  to  read  it.  She  had  some  difficulty  in 
finding  the  story,  and  in  picking  it  out  from  various 
chapters.  She  stopped  many  times  during  its 
reading,  to  listen  to  imaginary  sounds  on  the  street. 
She  decided  that  if  she  could  have  had  Gideon's 
signs,  she  surely  could  have  trusted. 

Meantime,  Mr.  Maxwell  and  Selim  were  on  their 
way  to  the  Schuyler  farm. 


12  MAKUSG  FATE. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A   VICTIM. 

IT  was  a  very  merry  company  which  gathered 
in  the  Schuyler  farm-house,  detained,  as  they  fondj^ 
believed,  by  the  unusually  severe  and  long  con 
tinued  thunder-storm. 

It  had  been  a  genuine  detention  at  first ;  while 
the  lightning  flashed  continually  and  the  earth 
seemed  fairly  to  tremble  under  the  roar  of  thun 
der,  they  had  been  grave  enough  ;  more  than  one 
of  the  group  silently  wishing  herself  safely  at 
home.  The  bountiful  supper  which  had  been 
spread  in  the  hospitable  dining-room  was  neglected 
while  the  storm  raged. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  one  of  the  guests  had  said,  "  we 
cannot  eat  while  it  is  thundering  so  !  "  and  though 
Bob  Schuyler  remarked  philosophically  that  "  thun 
der  didn't  hurt  anybody,"  and  was  ready  for  his 
supper,  it  was,  by  common  consent,  remanded  to 
the  kitchen  to  be  kept  hot,  and  cold,  while  the  nut 
ting  party  grouped  themselves  in  the  centre  of  the 
large  parlor  as  far  away  from  windows  as  pos 
sible,  and  talked  in  somewhat  subdued  tones,  and 
waited. 

As    for  Marjorie  Edmonds  she  did  not  talk  at  all 


A   VICTIM.  13 

She  could  not  help  remembering  that  her  mother 
was  inclined  to  be  nervous  during  a  thunder 
storm.  One  of  her  earliest  recollections  was  of 
hearing  her  father  say :  "  We  must  go  downstairs 
little  girl,  and  help  mamma  be  cheerful  while  this 
storm  lasts."  Of  late  years  she  had  taken  up  that 
father's  work,  or  tried  to,  and  was  generally  at 
hand  to  "  help  mamma  be  cheerful "  during  a 
storm.  Now  she  was  perhaps  quite  alone ;  and 
when  an  unusually  brilliant  flash  of  lightning 
flooded  the  room,  followed  instantly  by  the  deafen 
ing  peal  of  thunder,  Marjorie  wished  earnestly  that 
she  had  not  left  her. 

But  when  the  thunder  ceased,  and  the  rain, 
which  had  been  falling  in  torrents,  came  only  in 
gentle  drops,  the  spirits  of  the  company  began  to 
rise.  They  were  ready  now  for  pleasantries  and 
merry  little  thrusts  at  the  expense  of  the  more 
nervous.  By  the  time  the  belated  supper  was 
again  ready  the  rain  had  ceased  altogether,  and  the 
guests  were  hilarious.  That  is,  most  of  them  were. 
It  was  impossible  for  Marjorie  Edmonds,  being  the 
girl  she  was,  to  forget  that  they  were  still  seven 
miles  from  home,  and  the  hour  was  nearing  in 
which  she  had  told  her  mother  they  would  be  sure 
to  return.  But  then,  of  course,  mother  would  take 
the  storm  into  consideration,  and  not  expect  them 
so  early.  It  was  surprising  how  long  they  lingered 
at  that  supper  table  !  The  clock  struck  ten  while 
they  were  still  eating  nuts  and  guessing  conun 
drums.  And  they  lingered  still,  in  spite  of  the 


14  MAKING  FATE. 

fact  that  it  would  now  be  nearly  midnight  before 
they  could  hope  to  reach  home  !  Marjorie,  who 
had  a  vivid  imagination  and  was  well  acquainted 
with  her  mother,  could  hardly  restrain  her  impa 
tience.  She  had  finished  her  meal  long  before  and 
sat  back  waiting.  Had  she  been  seated  near 
enough  to  Ralph  Bramlett  to  have  given  him  a 
word  in  undertone,  she  felt  that  matters  might  be 
hastened,  for  Ralph  Bramlett  was  a  power  among 
the  young  people.  But  fate  had  placed  her  the 
length  of  the  table  from  him,  and  on  the  same  sid 
as  himself,  so  that  she  could  not  even  send  him  a 
meaning  glance.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
wait  until  those  thoughtless  creatures  had  finished 
their  nuts  and  their  stories.  There  were  the 
Douglass  girls  hindering  as  much  as  any,  although 
their  father  was  an  invalid  and  would  be  sure  to  get 
no  sleep  until  they  were  safe  at  home. 

It  was  while  they  still  surrounded  the  table  that 
Mrs.  Schuyler,  hospitably  inclined,  said  :  "  I  think 
it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  you  to  remain  all 
night.  It  is  getting  late,  and  we  may  have  another 
shower.  I  don't  suppose  the  weather  is  settled. 
We  have  plenty  of  room  and  shall  be  delighted  to 
have  you  stay." 

A  chorus  of  voices  greeted  this  sentence.  The 
Schuyler  girls  in  eager  seconding  of  their  mother's 
invitation  ;  some  of  the  guests  in  earnest  protest, 
others  of  them  declaring  that  that  would  be  great 
fun  ;  and  one  or  two  explaining  that  they  must  be 
at  home  very  early  in  the  morning. 


A   VICTIM.  15 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Schuyler,  "that  might  be 
managed.  If  you  really  cannot  stay  to  breakfast, 
you  might  plan  for  a  very  early  morning  ride.  It 
is  light  enough  for  driving  soon  after,  four  o'clock, 
and  a  much  pleasanter  hour  for  it  than  late  at 
night  in  a  storm." 

There  was  much  eager  talking,  and  Marjorie 
who  had  not  at  first  given  much  heed,  not  deem 
ing  it  possible  that  so  absurd  a  plan  could  carry 
weight,  began  to  be  seriously  alarmed.  Oh,  for  a 
word  with  Ralph  !  What  if  he  should  commit 
himself  to  some  of  those  silly  girls  who  actually 
wanted  to  stay,  and  keep  their  families  in  anxiety? 
Ralph  was  very  tenacious  of  his  word  ;  if  he  prom 
ised  them  he  would  not  go,  it  might  require  more 
persuasion  than  she  was  willing  to  make  to  carry 
her  point.  Yet  her  point  must  be  carried,  at  all 
hazards. 

Just  that  which  she  feared,  was  happening  at 
that  moment.  "  Oh,  you  won't  stay?"  Estelle 
Douglass  was  saying  to  Ralph,  "  I  think  it  would 
be  a  real  lark  to  do  so,  but  I  have  not  the  slightest 
expectation  of  it.  Marjorie  Edmonds  will  look  at 
you  with  those  great  brown  eyes  of  hers  and  mur 
mur  something  about  being  in  haste  to  start,  and 
you  will  go  out  and  harness  the  horses,  though 
one  of  them  should  be  struck  with  lightning  while 
you  are  doing  it,  and  though  a  cyclone  should 
carry  away  the  wagon.  Somehow  you  will  manage 
to  get  her  home  ;  and  make  the  rest  of  us  go  in 
your  train,  of  course." 


Ib  MAKING  FATE. 

Now  Ralph  Bramlett,  being  a  weak  young  man, 
easily  swayed  by  impulse,  was  of  course  painfully 
susceptible  to  such  talk  as  this. 

'•  Really  ! "  he  said,  his  face  flushing  under  her 
merry  gaze,  "  I  do  not  know  why  you  should  sup 
pose  me  to  be  a  person  so  utterly  devoid  of  common 
sense.  Of  course  I  will  stay  if  the  majority  of  my 
party  wish  to  do  so  ;  though  I  had  not  supposed 
that  you  would,  on  account  of  making  the  people 
at  home  anxious." 

His  tormentor  laughed  merrily.  "  That  is  too 
funny  !"  she  said  gayly.  "  Don't  you  know  we 
are  all  aware  that  you  respond  to  Marjorie's 
slightest  nod  ?  You  have  even  caught  her 
phraseology.  The  rest  of  us  give  our  parents  credit 
for  some  common  sense,  but  Marjorie  knows  that 
her  mother  proceeds  to  worrying  about  her  as  soon 
as  she  is  out  of  sight,  and  has  to  be  humored  accord 
ingly.  I  don't  blame  you,  Ralph  ;  Marjorie  is  a 
prize  worth  winning,  and  she  isn't  to  be  won  by 
people  who  do  not  know  enough  to  bow  when  she 
does,  and  shake  their  heads  in  accordance  with  her 
negatives.  But  she  is  a  dear  girl,  and  worthy  of 
all  manner  of  concessions. v 

After  that  it  was  unfortunate  that  Marjorie's 
first  words  when  she  met  him  at  last  in  the  parlor, 
were  : 

"  Oh,  Ralph,  won't  you  see  about  the  horses  at 
once  ?  It  is  growing  so  late,  and  I  cannot  think 
what  mother  will  do,  if  we  are  not  there  soon." 

"  Your  mother  will  be  reasonable,  of  course  ;  " 


A   VICTIM.  17 

he  answered  coldly  ;  more  coldly  than  he  was  in 
the  habit  of  speaking  to  Marjorie,  I  do  not  know 
that  we  shall  go  at  all.  I  must  consider  the  wishes 
of  the  entire  party,  Marjorie  ;  and  if  the  majority 
wish  to  stay " 

She  interrupted  him,  her  eyes  wide  with  anxiety  ; 
"  Oh  but  Ralph,  you  promised.  Don't  you  know 
when  I  appealed  to  you  this  morning,  you  said  : 
'  Why,  of  course,  Mrs.  Edmonds,  we  shall  be  back 
before  ten.  We  cannot  see  to  pick  nuts  as  late  as 
that.'  " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.  "  That  was  in 
no  sense  a  promise  ;  it  was  a  mere  statement  of  the 
probable.  That  we  were  to  have  a  thunder-storm 
of  unprecedented  severity  to  hinder  us  I  certainly 
did  not  take  into  those  calculations." 

"  I  know,  you  could  not  help  our  being  so  late  ; 
but,  Ralph,  it  does  not  rain  now  ;  see  how  bright 
the  moonlight  is  !  If  we  start  at  once  we  may  be 
at  home  by  midnight.  Oh,  Ralph,  won't  you  hurry  ? 

If  Estelle's  merry  eyes  had  not  been  on  him  he 
would  not  have  answered  so  coldly  as  he  did. 

"  I  do  not  see,  Marjorie,  why  you  cannot  be 
reasonable,  like  the  rest  of  the  party ;  they  all  have 
mothers,  as  well  as  you  ;  I  think  the  majority  of 
them  wish  to  stay  all  night.  It  is  so  late  now  that 
we  cannot  any  us  get  home  without  disturbing  the 
entire  household  ;  while  the  most  of  us  at  least  are  to 
be  trusted  to  take  care  not  only  of  ourselves,  but 
.of  those  entrusted  to  us.  At  any  rate  I  am  bound 
to  think  of  the  entire  party  and  not  single  out  one 


18  MAKING  FATE. 

to  control  it.  If  the  most  of  them  wish  to  stay 
that  must  settle  it." 

Marjorie  dropped  the  hand  which  she  had  rested 
lightly  on  his  arm  ;  she  was  hurt  to  the  heart.  No, 
she  did  not  want  to  be  selfish  ;  she  had  not  sup 
posed  that  she  was  so ;  she  believed  that  he  of  all 
persons  would  be  the  last  one  to  think  so.  What 
had  happened  to  make  him  so  cruelly  indifferent 
to  her  wishes  ?  Yet  she  must  get  home.  Despite 
her  pride  and  her  hurt  feelings  she  must  make 
one  more  effort. 

"  Ralph,  even  at  the  risk  of  your  good  opinion  I 
must  make  another  effort ;  it  is  so  important  that 
I  get  home.  You  do  not  understand  how  a  mother 
feels  who  is  all  alone  in  the  world ;  a  mother  who 
was  left  to  my  care.  We  have  never  been  away 
from  each  other  over  night  since  my  father  died. 
If  the  others  want  to  stay  all  night,  could  not  you 
take  me  home  ?  I  know,  it  is  very  hard  to  ask  you 
to  take  such  extra  trouble  for  me,  but  I  feel  as 
though  I  must  go." 

Her  lip  quivered  as  she  spoke,  and  the  young 
man's  heart  seemed  to  leap  up  into  his  throat. 
The  thought  of  a  ride  with  Marjorie  at  any  time 
was  enough  to  set  all  his  pulses  to  quivering. 
She  was  more  to  him,  ten  thousand  times,  than  all 
the  others  combined.  But  those  hateful  dancing 
eyes  of  that  girl,  Estelle  !  He  could  not  resist 
looking  over  at  her  at  the  moment ;  she  was  watch 
ing  them;  she  comprehended  the  whole  scene. 
She  nodded  her  mischievous  head  in  the  direction 


A   VICTIM.  19 

of  the  stables,  and  made  a  slight  dexterous  motion 
to  indicate  himself  driving  out  his  horses.  There 
would  be  no  end  to  her  ridicule  if  he  should  yield ; 
and  Marjorie  would  have  to  suffer  it  with  him  ;  no, 
he  must  shield  her,  as  well  as  himself.  He  steeled 
himself  to  look  coldly  at  the  quivering  lip. 

"  I  can't  do  it,  Marjorie ;  think  how  ridiculously 
conspicuous  it  would  make  us  both.  From  all  the 
talk  about  me  I  am  sure  they  have  made  up  their 
minds  to  remain.  The  night  would  be  half  over 
before  we  could  reach  home ;  and  we  will  go  as 
early  in  the  morning  as  you  please  ;  before  day 
light  if  you  say  so.  They  are  afraid  of  another 
storm,  I  suppose  ;  the  weather  is  unsettled,  proba 
bly.  I  wonder,  Marjorie,  since  you  are  so  unwill 
ing  to  tr.ust  to  my  judgment,  that  you  trusted 
yourself  to  my  care  to  come." 

This  last  sentence  was  added  almost  in  im 
patience,  because  he  saw  that  his  logic  had  not 
moved  her  a  hair's-breadth  from  her  desire.  She 
turned  from  him,  drawing  a  long  breath  as  she  did 
so,  and  he  remembered  afterwards  just  how  her 
half-suppressed  voice  sounded  as  she  said  slowly, 
"  I  am  sorry  I  did." 

He  could  have  choked  himself  the  next  moment 
for  half  the  words  he  had  spoken.  He  began  to 
make  the  most  vigorous  efforts  to  induce  his  party 
to  vote  for  home.  But  the  spirit  of  the  frolic 
had  by  this  time  gotten  hold  of  them.  They 
were  intimate  friend  at  the  Schuylers,  they  had 
often  been  entertained  there  ;  they  knew  they  were 


20  MAKING  FATE. 

more  than  welcome.  Nothing  was  more  common 
than  for  large  parties  to  come  out,  by  invitation,  to 
spend  not  only  the  night,  but  several  days  and 
nights.  Oh,  their  people  would  understand  well 
enough  what  had  become  of  them  ;  they  had  done  it 
before.  Everybody  knew  they  were  going  to  take 
supper  at  the  Schuylers'.  Besides,  there  was 
going  to  be  another  storm ;  they  were  sure  of  it  : 
the  moonlight  looked  too  bright  to  last.  Two  of 
the  girls  said  that  they  were  awfully  afraid  of  driv 
ing  during'  a  thunder-storm.  Didn't  he  know  it 
was  considered  dangerous  to  be  out  under  the  trees  ? 
Besides,  horses  were  almost  always  afraid  of  light 
ning.  In  short,  Ralph  Bramlett  failed  ;  and  went 
about  gloomily  conscious  of  it.  He  had  given  that 
mischievous  spirit,  Estelle  Douglass,  his  word  that 
he  would  abide  by  the  majority,  and  abide  he  must. 
She  congratulated  him  now  on  his  success.  "  I 
did  not  think  you  could  accomplish  it,"  she  said. 
"  When  I  saw  her  mournful  eyes  looking  up  at  you, 
I  thought  our  fun  was  all  over,  and  began  to  plan 
how  I  should  protect  myself  from  the  possible  rain. 
You  are  braver  than  I  thought." 

He  hated  her  for  saying  it.  He  assured  her  that 
it  was,  in  his  opinion,  a  very  foolish  thing  to  stay 
all  night ;  that  there  was  no  more  sign  of  storm 
outside  than  there  was  in  the  parlor ;  that  the 
drive  by  moonlight  would  have  been  charming,  and 
that  lie  was  simply  a  victim  of  circumstances.  In 
the  course  of  the  next  hour  he  contrived  to  be 
near  enough  to  Marjorie  to  speak  low. 


A  VTrTT^r.  21 

"  I'm  awfully  sony,  Marjorie  ;  I  tried  my  best  to 
get  them  to  vote  to  go  home.  I  never  saw  such 
idiots." 

She  answered  him  never  a  word,  and  moved 
away  from  his  side  of  the  room  as  promptly  as  she 
could.  Merriment  ran  high  in  that  large  old- 
fashioned  parlor,  but  Ralph  Bramlett,  who  was 
generally  the  center  of  the  merriest  group,  cer 
tainly  did  not  have  a  happy  time.  He  was  moody 
and  absent-minded.  His  eyes  followed  Marjorie 
whenever  they  could  do  so  without  being  too  closely 
observed.  He  had  all  the  horror  of  a  weak  nature 
of  being  observed,  where  observation  would  have 
done  no  harm.  As  for  Marjorie,  it  was  easy  enough, 
for  some  time,  to  keep  her  in  sight.  She  was 
very  quiet,  speaking  only  when  directly  appealed  to, 
and  she  kept  her  station  near  one  of  the  wide  lo  w 
windows  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  road. 

Just  why  she  wished  to  watch  it,  she  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  explain.  A  wild  idea  that 
somebody  might  pass  who  in  the  brilliant  moon 
light  she  should  recognize,  and  to  whom  she  could 
fly  down  and  beg  a  passage  home,  floated  through 
her  excited  brain,  but  of  course  found  no  judg 
ment  to  rest  upon.  It  was  too  late  for  ordinary 
passers-by,  and  she  was  too  far  from  the  road 
either  to  recognize  or  appeal.  But  she  sat  and 
thought  it  and  a  dozen  other  schemes  over,  not  as 
things  which  she  would  attempt,  but  as  plans  which 
might  be  carried  out,  suppose  the  situation  were 
desperate  enough.  If,  for  instance,  she  were  a 


22  MAKING  FATE. 

prisoner  here,  held  by  desperadoes,  and  in  danger 
of  her  life,  how  should  she  plan  ?  She  tried  to 
keep  her  thoughts  on  some  such  absurdity,  so  as 
not  to  think  too  steadily  of  her  mother.  That  frail 
nervous,  loving  mother  !  What  kind  of  a  night  of 
suffering  was  this  to  her? 

Among  the  groups  around  her,  merriment  grew 
apace.  Nobody  was  tired  or  sleepy.  Somebod}'- 
suggested  going  to  bed,  and  somebody  else  laughed 
at  the  idea.  Why  should  they  go  tamely  to  bed 
at  a  reasonable  hour,  as  though  this  were  like  any 
other  night,  instead  of  a  time  for  them  to  be  to- 

o        * 

gether  and  have  a  frolic  ? 

By  and  by,  Ralph's  watchful  eyes  noticed  that 
Marjorie  Edmonds  summoned  little  Effie  Schuyler 
to  her  and  carried  on  a  whispered  conversation  with 
her.  Effie  was  the  youngest  of  the  company  and 
had  been  twice  advised  by  her  elder  sisters  to  re 
tire,  but  had  begged  for  another  hour  of  the  fun. 
Now  she  carried  messages  back  and  forth  from 
Marjorie  to  her  oldest  sister  ;  and  presently  Mar 
jorie  slipped  away  from  the  room. 

She  was  gone  so  long  that  Ralph's  anxieties 
became  torture,  and  he  ventured  to  make  inquiries 
of  Miss  Schuyler.  By  which  he  learned  that  Mar 
jorie  had  pleaded  headache  and  weariness  and 
asked  to  be  allowed  to  slip  quietly  away  to  her 
room  without  making  any  break.  She  had  also 
begged  for  the  little  hall-room  where  there  was  a 
single  bed,  so  she  would  disturb  no  one  by  her 
restlessness.  Miss  Schuyler  had  intended  to  send 


A  VICTIM.  23 

Effie  there,  and  give  her  a  more  comfortable  bed, 
but  she  had  begged  for  that.  She,  Miss  Schuyler, 
had  been  up  once,  but  everything  was  so  quiet 
she  had  not  liked  to  disturb  her. 

Poor  Marjorie,  she  was  really  sorry  for  her,  she 
was  unlike  those  other  dear  thoughtless  girls,  she 
could  not  help  being  anxious  about  her  mother. 

"  If  brother  Rich  had  been  here,"  said  Miss 
Schuyler,  "  I  should  have  asked  him  to  take  Mar 
jorie  home." 


24  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  III. 

AN  OPPORTUNITY. 

OTHER  households  than  that  of  Mrs.  Edmonds 
were  more  or  less  affected  by  the  non-appearance 
of  the  nutting  party. 

One  of  these  belonged  to  Mr.  Douglass,  who 
was  just  enough  of  an  invalid  to  have  sleepless 
nights  on  very  slight  provocation.  This  night  was 
no  exception  ;  though,  truth  to  tell,  the  Douglass 
girls  were  careless  enough  to  have  taught  their 
father,  long  before  this,  the  folly  of  waiting  for 
them.  He  was  not  exactly  anxious  over  their 
delay,  but  he  was  wakeful,  and  listened  to  every 
sound  which  might  be  wheels,  and  awoke  Mrs. 
Douglass  to  say  that  it  had  grown  colder  since  the 
rain,  and  to  ask  if  Estelle  and  Fanny  had  wraps 
with  them.  She,  good  woman,  as  she  answered  in 
the  affirmative,  forbore  to  ask  the  question  which 
she  could  not  keep  from  her  thoughts,  namely, 
what  earthly  good  it  would  do  the  girls  to  inquire 
about  that  now?  However,  being  fairly  awake, 
she  kept  him  company,  and  they  talked  over 
matters  and  things  in  general,  and  listened  for 
wheels,  until  the  clock  struck  twelve.  Then  Mrs. 
Douglass  said  decidedly : 


.i.v  ori'onrrxrrr.  25 

"  Now,  father,  you  may  as  well  give  the  children 
up  and  go  to  sleep.  It's  midnight,  arid  they  have 
had  more  than  time  to  get  here  since  the  rain,  if 
they  were  coming.  The  whole  crowd  have  decided 
to  stay  at  Schnyler's  until  morning.  I  know  them  ; 
they  would  like  nothing  better  than  an  excuse  to 
stay  all  night.  They  can  frolic  all  the  even 
ing,  half  the  night  for  that  matter,  and  have  an 
early  morning  ride  together  in  the  bargain.  They 
aren't  going  to  lose  so  good  an  excuse  as  this 
for  lengthening  out  their  good  time,  I  can  tell 
you." 

The  nervous  father  sighed,  and  said  :  "  When  I 
was  young  we  had  to  be  in  the  house  by  ten  o'clock  ; 
you  wouldn't  have  caught  my  father  and  mother 
going  to  bed,  if  I  had  been  out  roving  around 
somewhere  until  after  midnight ;  and  to  think  of 
girls  doing  it  doesn't  seem  just  the  thing." 

Mrs.  Douglass  opened  her  lips  to  say  that  times 
were  changed  since  he  was  young ;  and  that  the 
girls  were  in  good  company,  and  it  wasn't  likely 
any  harm  could  come  to  them  ;  but  she  was  inter 
rupted  by  a  vigorous  knocking  at  the  front  door. 

t;  There  !  "  said  the  father,  "  something  has 
happened  ;  I  knew  there  would."  And  he  sprang 
out  of  bed  quickly  enough  to  set  his  enfeebled 
heart  to  throbbing  for  the  remainder  of  the  night. 

Nothing  very  serious  had  happened.  The 
mother,  who  was  tremblingly  struggling  into  her 
clothes,  being  in  nowise  so  free  from  anxiety  as 
she  had  tried  to  represent,  felt  a  great  surge  of 


26  MAKING  FATE. 

relief  and  thanksgiving  as  she  heard  the  cheery 
voice  of  her  youngest  brother. 

"  Routed  you  up,  have  I,  out  of  a  sound,  sleep  ? 
That's  too  bad;  but  it  couldn't  be  helped  this 
time.  I've  only  a  couple  of  hours  to  stop  ;  must 
go  on  by  the  express  at  two-twenty." 

"•  Only  two  hours  to  stop  and  they  had  not  seen 
him  in  more  than  a  year  !  "  The  clothes  went  on 
rapidly  after  that ;  and  by  the  time  the  youngest 
daughter,  Glyde,  having  been  roused  by  the 
sound  of  voices,  had  slipped  into  her  pfetty  red 
wrapper,  and  with  her  hair  in  rich,  yellow-brown 
waves  down  her  back  *'  appeared  on  the  scene," 
they  were  all  in  full  tide  of  talk.  "  Uncle  Anthony  " 
was  a  favorite  guest  at  this  house,  and  the  mother 
thought  with  a  sigh  how  much  her  two  older 
daughters  were  missing. 

Evidently  the  uncle  missed  some  one  whom  he 
was  anxious  to  see.  He  kept  an  eye  on  the  door  as 
he  talked,  and  seemed  to  be  listening  for  approach 
ing  footsteps.  Presently  he  asked  : 

"  Where  is  Estelle  ?— and  Fanny  ?  "  This  latter 
name  added  apparently  as  an  afterthought. 

He  listened  to  the  explanations  of  their  absence 
with  evident  disappointment.  "  I  am  very  sorry," 
he  said,  "  more  sorry  then  I  can  put  into  words. 
The  fact  is,  I  had  a  plan  ;  it  won't  do  any  good  to 
tell  it  now,  but  I  wanted  to  smuggle  Estelle  off 
with  me.  I  am  on  my  way  to  New  York  ;  a  hur 
ried  business  trip  ;  that  is,  I'm  in  a  desperate  hurry 
to  get  there,  but  will  have  some  little  time  for 


AN  OPPORTUNITY.  27 

sightseeing  after  one  business  item  of  importance 
is  disposed  of,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
opportunity  to  show  Estelle  a  little  of  the  city. 
I'm  obliged  to  take  the  two-twenty  train,  because 
it  is  important  that  I  reach  New  York  before  busi 
ness  hours  are  over  to-morrow.  You  don't  think 
there  is  any  hope  that  they  will  get  home  before 
that  time,  I  suppose  ?  " 

The  mother  shook  her  head  anxiously  and  ex 
pressed  her  deep  regret;  it  would  have  been  an 
outing  that  Estelle  could  have  remembered  all  her 
life;  and  the  child  just  longed  to  see  New  York. 

She  went  to  the  window  and  rolled  up  the  shade 
and  peered  down  the  road  as  though  her  anxious 
glance  might  bring  the  nutting  party  into  view  ; 
while  the  father  explained  that  the  girls  were  not 
often  out  like  this  and  it  was  not  at  all  according 
to  his  ideas  ;  but  their  mother  thought  he  was  over 
anxious.  Uncle  Anthony  interrupted  him  to  ask 
a  question  of  Glyde. 

"  Why  are  you  not  away  with  the  others  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  never  am.  The  girls  say  that  two  from 
a  family  is  enough ;  that  they  can't  make  things 
into  a  Douglass  party  !  They  say  I  must  wait  and 
take  my  turn ;  and  my  turn  never  comes." 

Her  uncle  regarded  her  with  an  amused  smile  ; 
and  continued  to  study  her  as  though  she  were  a 
revelation.  Her  red  wrapper  became  her  well  ; 
and  the  braids  of  yellow-brown  hair  which  hung 
down  her  back  seemed  to  match  the  dress.  ?be 
had  unusual  eyes,  too ;  large,  and  remarkably 


28  MAKING  FATE. 

expressive.  They  seemed  to  glow  with  wonder 
and  suppressed  delight  over  the  thought  of  Estelle's 
opportunity,  and  to  shade  with  sadness  at  the  same 
moment  over  the  thought  that  it  was  lost.  There 
was  a  sense  in  which  she  was  a  revelation  to  her 
uncle.  He  was  a  busy  man,  whose  visits  to  his 
sister's  home  were  rare  and  brief  j  and  he  had 
heretofore  lavished  all  his  attentions  and  most  of 
his  gifts  on  Estelle,  the  second  daughter.  None 
of  the  family  had  been  surprised  over  this.  They 
knew  instinctively  that  it  grew  out  of  the  fact  that 
she  bore  the  same  name  as  Uncle  Anthony's  wife 
of  a  month.  The  young  and  beautiful  Aunt 
Estelle  whom  they  had  never  seen,  but  of  whom 
they  had  heard  so  much.  To  whom  Uncle 
Anthony  had  been  engaged  ever  since  he  was  a  boy 
and  for  whom  he  waited  during  the  years  when 
there  was  a  frail  little  mother  who  would  not  be 
happy  if  her  daughter  was  out  of  her  sight,  and  to 
whom  the  daughter  would  not  give  a  divided 
attention.  And  then  the  mother  had  gone  to 
heaven,  leaving  her  daughter  to  Uncle  Anthony's 
care  ;  for  the  delayed  marriage  had  been  solem 
nized  at  last  beside  the  mother's  dying  bed ;  and 
then,  Aunt  Estelle  had  followed  her  mother  in  one 
short  month.  No  wonder  that  the  niece,  Estelle, 
was  the  only  one  who  had  seemed  to  interest  Uncle 
Anthony.  He  even  fancied  that  she  looked  like 
the  wife  he  had  buried  seven  years  before.  But 
to-night  he  looked  at  Glyde. 

"  So   your   turn    never   comes  "    he    said,    and 


AN  OPPORTUNITY.  29 

laughed.  And  then  he  told  himself  that  she  was 
growing  into  a  very  pretty  girl  ;  that  he  believed, 
after  all,  she  looked  more  like  his  Estelle  than  the 
namesake  did  ;  never  realizing,  poor  man,  that  he 
had  grown  into  the  habit  of  seeing  resemblances 
to  his  lost  treasure  in  every  person  or  thing  which 
struck  his  fancy. 

"  I  am  so  sorry,"  said  the  mother,  returning  from 
her  fruitless  search  down  the  road.  "  It  will 
just  about  break  Estelle's  heart.  She  could  go  as 
well  as  not,  too  ;  her  new  suit  is  finished  and  it 
would  be  just  the  thing  to  wear.  I  don't  see  for 
my  part  why  they  need  have  stayed." 

And  then  Uncle  Anthony  interrupted  again  : 

"  Suppose  I  take  you,  Glyde,  in  Estelle's  place  ?  " 
He  laughed  over  the  flash  of  light  which  the 
expressive  brown  eyes  gave  ;  and  said  to  himself 
that  there  were  possibilities  about  that  girl  that  he 
had  never  seen  before.  This,  while  she  was  say 
ing  in  tones  that  trembled  with  excitement, 

"  I !  Oh,  Uncle  Anthony,  you  can't  possibly 
mean  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  decidedly,  "  I  mean  it.  You 
see  it  isn't  possible  for  me  to  Avait  for  Estelle  ;  and 
I  have  set  my  heart  on  having  some  young  company 
along  with  me  this  time.  What  do  you  say, 
Esther  ?  Can't  you  and  she  put  some  ribbons  and 
things  into  a  bag  for  her,  and  let  me  have  her  in 
an  hour's  time  ?  " 

Never  were  the  resources  of  the  Douglass  family 
more  fully  taxed.  To  get  any  one  ready  for  a 


30  MAKING  FATE, 

journey  of  some  length  on  an  hour's  notice  is  not 
easy  work  ;  and  to  get  ready  a  young  girl  who  had 
never  been  away  from  home,  and  had  had  no  ex 
pectation  of  going,  at  least  not  for  years  to  come, 
and  to  do  it  with  the  limited  resources  of  the 
house,  was  an  experience  to  remember. 

Glyde  brushed  her  yellow-brown  hair  in  nervous 
haste,  and  drove  the  hairpins  into  her  head  as  she 
talked. 

-"  Mother,  do  you  suppose  Estelle  would  let  me 
take  her  sack  ?  I  shan't  be  away  but  a  few  days, 
and  what  can  I  have  to  wear  around  me  if  she 
won't?" 

"  Why,  she  will,  of  course,  child  ;  I'll  put  it  in 
your  satchel.  And  you  take  that  waist  of  Fanny's ; 
it  just  fits  you,  and  she  will  be  willing  for  you  to 
have  it,  I  know.  You  needn't  wear  it  much,  un 
less  you  have  to,  but  it  will  make  you  feel  kind  of 
comfortable  to  have  it  along." 

"  Oh,  mother  !  I  can't  take  Fanny's  waist  !  you 
don't  know  how  much  she  thinks  of  it.  Oh,  dear  ! 
I  don't  believe  I  ought  to  go.  I  shall  have  to 
borrow  so  many  things  from  the  girls  that  they  have 
got  ready  for  winter  ;  and  to  borrow  when  they 
are  not  here,  too.  It  feels  awfully  selfish.  I  don't 
believe  Uncle  Anthony  would  want  me,  if  he  knew. 
I  know  he  hates  selfish  people,  because  he  is  so  nice 
and  generous.  Mother,  isn't  it  dreadful  that  Estelle 
isn't  here  ?  I  declare,  I  could  cry  for  her,  if  I  had 
time.  It  will  almost  break  her  heart,  won't  it  ?  '' 

"  She  will  think  she  has  been  dreadfully  used, " 


AN  OPPORTUNITY.  31 

said  tin?  mother,  pushing  her  own  new  black  stock 
ings,  which  fitted  Glyde,  into  the  bag  she  was  pack 
ing.  "•  Bat  it  isn't  our  fault ;  and  I  don't  know  but 
I'm  glad  you  are  going.  It  doesn't  seem  right  for 
Estelleand  Fanny  to  get  all  the  good  times  and  you 
always  left  out.  Sometimes  I  have  thought  it  was 
making  the  girls,  especially  Estelle,  selfish.  Glyde 
where  is  your  best  white  skirt  ?  I  wonder  if  you 
let  Estelle  wear  it  to  go  nutting  !  Why,  child,  it 
will  be  ruined.  She  will  get  it  all  draggled,  in  this 
rain.  It  is  too  long  for  her,  anyway.  I  don't  see 
what  you  will  do  without  it.  How  came  you  to 
let  her  take  it  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  let  her,"  laughed  Glyde.  "  It  hung 
there  and  she  took  it.  Oh  I  can  get  along 
without  anything,  mother.  I  believe  I  would  be 
willing  to  wear  this  old  red  wrapper  all  the  time, 
for  the  sake  of  going.  When  I  think  of  it  all,  I 
feel  as  though  I  should  fly  !  Oh,  do  you  suppose 
I  can  get  ready  in  time  ?  What  if  Estelle  should 
be  driving  up  this  minute  !  Then  I  should  have 
to  stay  at  home.  Is  it  awfully  wicked  to  almost 
hope  that  she  won't  come  now  until  after  I  am 
gone  ?  " 

"  No  you  wouldn't  !  I'll  be  bound  if  you  shall 
stay  at  home  this  time,  for  Estelle,  or  any  of  the 
rest  of  them."  It  was  Uncle  Anthony  who  said 
this  ;  but  he  muttered  it  to  himself,  and  only  the 
walls  of  the  room  where  he  was  washing  his  hands 
heard  the  words.  He  had  overheard  every  word 
to  which  Glyde  and  her  mother  had  been  saying. 


32  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Esther,"  he  had  said  to  his  sister,  "  give  me  a 
chance  wash  my  hands,  will  you  ?  I've  got  some  of 
that  miserable  colored  ink  on  them  from  a  leaky 
pen.  I  shall  have  to  throw  that  pen  away  I  believe." 
So  his  sister  had  shown  him  in  haste  into  the  room 
which  Estelle  and  Fanny  occupied  together,  and 
Clyde  unmindful  of  the  transem  between  that  room 
and  the  tiny  one  which  belonged  to  her  had  talked 
on  in  loud  eager  tones ;  and  her  uncle  had  listened 
and  laughed,  and  learned  some  things. 

" v  Selfish,'  is  she  ?  "  he  had  murmured,  in  re 
sponse  to  the  mother's  confession  about  Estelle. 
"  I  shouldn't  wonder ;  I  have  suspected  as  much, 
myself;  and  I've  helped  her  along  in  it  no  doubt; 
and  forgotten  all  about  this  little  Cinderella  left 
at  home.  I  wish  she  would  wear  her  red  wrapper  ; 
then  she  would  do  for  Red  Riding  Hood ;  but  I 
don't  want  her  to  meet  the  bear."  Then  he  raised 
his  voice :  "  Come,  Cinderella,  it  is  almost  time 
you  were  ready  for  the  ball ;  we  have  to  get 
started  before  the  clock  strikes,  you  know,  or  the 
charm  will  be  broken."  And  Glyde's  voice  sank 
suddenly  to  a  frightened  whisper,  as  she  said  : 
"  Oh,  mother  !  I  forgot  he  was  there.  What  have 
I  been  saying  about  him  ?  do  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Nothing  bad,  I  guess,"  said  Mrs.  Douglass, 
regarding  her  youngest  daughter  with  kindly  eyes. 
"  You  never  say  mean  things  about  people  behind 
their  backs.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  what  we'll  do 
without  you,  Glyde,  we  are  so  used  to  having  you 
at  home." 


AN  OPPORTUNITY.  33 

They  worked  swiftly  while  they  talked,  and  in 
a  very  brief  space  of  time,  the  bustle  was  over, 
and  Glyde  was  on  her  way  to  the-  station  ;  going 
to  take  her  first  journey  of  any  moment.  A  very 
quiet  sheltered  life  had  she  lived  during  her  nine 
teen  years.  The  fact  that  she  was  the  third 
daughter,  had  held  her  back  from  the  most  of  the 

o 

gatherings  in  which  her  sisters  were  centres.  Her 
sisters  had  been  so  sure  that  two  out  of  a  family 
was  sufficient,  and  had  been  so  emphatic  in  their 
statements  to  that  effect,  that  there  had  been 
nothing  for  Glyde  but  submission.  Therefore  it 
was  almost  beyond  her  belief  that  she  was.  actually 
on  her  way  to  New  York. 

Her  Uncle  Anthony  would  have  been  even 
more  pleased  than  he  was,  with  what  he  had  done, 
had  he  realized  the  pretty  flutter  that  the  little 
girl  who  tripped  at  his  side  was  in.  A  little  under 
tone  of  almost  regret  added  sweetness  to  her  voice 
as  she  talked.  Her  father's  kiss  on  both  cheeks  as 
she  bade  him  good-bye,  had  been  lingering  and 
tender  and  there  had  been  almost  a  wistful  look  in 
his  eyes.  Truth  to  tell,  he  was  a  man  who  of  late 
years  had  not  been  able  to  bid  his  children  good 
night  without  a  feeling  that  perhaps  it  was  good- 
by,  that  he  might  riot  be  there  in  the  morning. 
Nothing  of  this  feeling  did  Glyde  realize,  or  a  thou 
sand  New  Yorks  could  not  have  taken  her  away  ; 
she  only  knew  that  his  kiss  was  lingering,  and  his 
voice  low  and  tender  when  he  bade  her  good-bye. 
And  her  mother  had  said,  "  Dear  me,  child .!  I  am 
3 


34  MAKING  FATE. 

not  used  to  having  my  youngest  chicken  go  out 
from  the  nest.  It  seems  very  queer.  I  almost  wish 
your  uncle  hadn't  made  us  do  it ;  and  yet  I'm 
real  glad  to  have  you  go  and  have  a  frolic." 

Neither  mother  nor  father  were  given  to  show 
ing  their  feeling  so  plainly,  and  Glyde  as  she 
tripped  away,  was  conscious  of  a  happy  little  thrill 
over  the  thought  that  she  was  of  a  good  deal  of 
consequence  in  the  world  after  all,  and  that  her 
mother  and  father  would  miss  her.  Then  she  went 
immediately  to  planning  about  a  certain  two-dollar 
bill  which  had  been  in  her  pocket-book  ever  since 
Aunt  Caroline  who  was  ill  and  could  not  go  out 
to  purchase  gifts,  had  sent  it  to  her  with  directions 
to  purchase  a  birthda3r  present  for  herself.  It  had 
come  too  late  for  the  birthday,  and  had  been  spent, 
in  imagination,  on  a  thousand  different  things,  and 
was  in  her  pocket  yet.  Glyde  thought  of  it  with 
little  quivers  of  delight.  Of  course  father  and 
mother  and  the  girls  must  have  some  token  in 
remembrance  of  her  trip.  She  would  bring  them 
each  a  present  from  New  York.  She  would 
divide  the  money  equally  among  them ;  fifty 
cents  must  be  able  to  buy  quite  a  present  in  that 
great  city  where  people  shopped  so  much,  and 
where  there  were  such  immense  stores  as  she  had 
heard  of. 

No,  she  would  divide  it  equally  between  father 
and  mother;  the  girls  must  do  without.  No, 
that  would  not  do ;  she  was  sure  she  would  like 
a  present  from  New  York ;  she  would  spend 


AN  OPPORTUNITY.  35 

sevent)'-five  cents  each,  for  father  and  mother,  and 
have  a  quarter  left  for  each  of  the  girls.  Oh, 
she  did  not  know  how  she  would  manage  it ;  but 
in  some  way  that  two-dollar  bill  should  conduce  to 
the  family  joy. 


36  MAKING  FATS:. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PERPLEXITIES   AND   DECISIONS. 

ONE  other  home  represented  in  the  nutting 
party  had  an  experience  that  evening  which  should 
be  recorded.  This  was  at  the  Bramlett  farm, 
which  was  out  about  two  miles  from  town. 
Mother  and  daughter  were  in  the  sitting-room 
plying  their  needles  vigorously,  and  wishing  oc 
casionally  that  Ralph  would  come.  They  lived  on 
an  unfrequented  road  and  the  father,  who  had  been 
expected  home  from  a  neighboring  city  by  the 
evening  train,  had  not  come.  The  door-bell  inter 
rupted  their  quiet,  and  made  them  look  nervously 
at  each  other  and  wonder  who  that  could  be.  To 
hear  the  sound  of  their  door-bell  at  that  hour  of 
the  evening  was  unusual. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  tramp ! "  said  Hannah  Bram 
lett  who  lived  on  her  nerves,  and  had  been  on  the 
lookout  for  thieves  and  robbers  for  the  past  twenty 
years.  However  there  seemed  no  alternative  but 
to  go  to  the  door.  Hannah  led  the  way,  her 
mother  following  with  the  lamp  ;  on  her  passage 
through  the  hall  she  seized  an  umbrella,  with  a 
vague  idea  of  defending  themselves.  As  for 


PERPLEXITIES  AND  DECISIONS.  3j 

Hannah  she  contented  herself  with  saying  in  nerv 
ous  tones  as  she  unlocked  the  door :  "  Ralph  ought 
to  be  at  home  before  this!  It  is  just  like  him  to 
stay  away  half  the  night  and  leave  us  alone." 

Then  the  mother*,  after  the  fashion  of  mothers, 
began  to  make  excuses. 

"  Well,  but,  Hannah,  you  know  he  expected  father 
to  get  home  on  the  evening  train." 

And  then  Hannah  opened  the  door  and  received 
a  yellow-covered  envelope.  "  A  dispatch  !  "  gasped 
both  women  at  once,  turning  pale  with  apprehen 
sion.  Mrs.  Bramlett  set  the  lamp  on  a  chair,  and 
herself  on  the  lowest  stair,  while  Hannah,  glanc 
ing  around  to  say  :  "  Don't  be  frightened,  mother ; 
it's  likely  from  father  to  tell  that  he  missed  the 
train,"  tore  open  the  envelope  and  read  : 

"  Call  upon  us  if  possible  before  twelve  o'clock 
to-morrow  morning." 

Then  she  interrupted  :  "  It's  for  Ralph  ;  from 
those  folks  in  New  York ;  where  he  is  trying  to 
get  a  chance  in  their  office,  you  know.  He  can't 
get  to  them  before  twelve  o'clock  to-morrow 
unless  he  comes  in  time  for  to-night's  train ; 
and  I  don't  believe  he  will ;  it  will  be  just 
like  him  to  stay  out  at  Schuyler's  all  night. 
That  silly  crowd  he  has  with  him  would  rather 
stay  than  not.  It  will  serve  him  right  if  he  does  ; 
here  he  has  been  waiting  for  a  year,  nearly,  for 
a  chance  to  get  in  at  this  office.  There  wasn't  any 
sense  in  his  getting  up  a  nutting  frolic  when  father 
was  away  and  there  were  so  many  things  to  see  to. 


38  MAKING  FATE. 

I  don't  understand  why  a  man  twenty-two  years 
old  has  to  act  like  a  boy  of  nineteen.  Ralph 
hasn't  any  more  sense  than  he  had  four  years  ago." 

The  two  women  went  back  to  the  sitting-room 
where  they  alternately  sewed  and  read  the  tele 
gram,  studying  each  word  carefully,  as  though  it 
could  offer  some  suggestions  concerning  the  pos 
sibility  or  rather  the  impossibility  of  getting  word 
to  Ralph  before  it  should  be  too  late  for  the. 
train. 

"  If  he  doesn't  come  inside  of  the  next  hour," 
said  Hannah  at  last,  as  the  clock  struck  eleven, 
"why,  he'll  just  lose  his  chance  ;  that's  all.  And 
he'll  blame  us  for  not  getting  him  word,  somehow 
I  s'pose  ;  he  always  does  lay  the  blame  on  other 
folks.  But  I  don't  see  what  we  could  do." 

"  There  is  nothing  we  can  do,"  said  the  mother, 
sorrowfully.  "  If  you  were  only  a  boy,  Hannah, 
you  could  get  on  old  Ben's  back  and  gallop  out 
there,  but  as  it  is " 

"  If  I  were  a  boy,"  interrupted  Hannah,  as  she 
flung  scissors  and  thimble  into  her  work-box  with 
a  zeal  which  made  them  ring,  "  I  could  do  a  thou 
sand  things  which  I  can't  do  now ;  and  if  I  wasn't 
different  in  a  good  many  respects  from  some  boys 
I  know,  it  would  be  queer.  But  I'm  nothing  but 
a  girl,  and  there's  no  use  in  talking.  I  don't  expect 
Ralph  to-night,  and  we  might  as  well  go  to  bed 
first  as  last.  Great  use  in  father  being  so  careful 
of  the  horses  as  to  tell  Ralph  that  he  needn't  come 
to  meet  him ;  he  could  ride  out  with  the  Carters, 


PERPLEXITIES  AND  DECISIONS.  89 

and  then  Ralph  goes  off  with  the  horses  all  day, 
nobody  knows  how  many  miles.  I  never  did  see 
such  works !  " 

"  Hannah,"  said  her  mother  with  a  gentle  sigh, 
"  you  are  twenty-six  years  old,  and  you  think 
Ralph  is  almost  as  old  as  you  are,  but  a  boy  of 
twenty-two  is  a  good  deal  younger,  remember,  than 
a  girl  of  even  the  same  age,  and  four  years  make 
a  great  difference." 

"  I  hope  they  will  make  a  difference  in  Ralph," 
said  Hannah  significantly.  Then  mother  and 
daughter  went  to  bed.  Both  of  them  to  lie  awake 
and  inwardly  groan,  because,  being  women,  there 
was  nothing  they  could  do  to  preserve  to  the  son 
and  brother  the  "  chance  "  which  this  telegram 
might  contain. 

Even  the  guests  at  the  Schuyler  farmhouse 
wearied  at  last,  and  permitted  themselves  to  be 
shown  to  their  various  rooms.  But  sleep  did  not 
come  to  all  of  them*  even  at  that  late  hour. 

Notably  was  this  the  case  with  Ralph  Bramlett. 
When  he  found  himself  in  darkness  and  compara 
tive  solitude,  with  time  to  think,  he  discovered  that 
his  thoughts  were  anything  but  agreeable  com 
panions.  Why  had  he  been  such  a  bear  to  Mar- 
jorie  ?  Why  had  he  allowed  the  teasing  words  of 
Estelle  Douglass  to  have  such  an  influence  over 
him?  What  in  the  world  did  he  care  what  she 
thought  about  him  ? 

There  were  his  own  father  and  mother  who  would, 
to  say  the  least,  think  it  very  strange  in  him  to 


40  MAKING  FATE. 

stay  out  all  night  with  no  better  excuse  for  so 
doing,  than  he  had  to  offer. 

He  tossed  from  side  to  side,  to  the  infinite  dis 
comfiture  of  his  bedfellow,  and  went  over  all  the 
details  of  the  evening  with  exasperating  minute 
ness.  He  tried  to  decide  whether  Marjorie  would 
be  really  vexed  with  him,  or  at  least  whether  it 
was  a  vexation  which  would  last  longer  than  the 
night.  He  resolved  that,  with  the  very  first  streak 
of  dawn,  he  would  arouse  his  party  and  make  all 
haste  to  get  started  homeward.  No  breakfast  for 
him  at  the  Schuyler  farm  that  morning  ;  and  no 
one  knew  better  than  he  that  he  could  control  the 
movements  of  the  entire  party  when  he  set  about 
it.  As  soon  as  ever  he  had  Marjorie  beside  him, 
out  of  hearing  of  others,  he  would  explain  to  her 
certain  reasons,  which  he  had  evolved  out  of  his 
night  thoughts,  why  he  could  not  do  as  she  wished. 
He  would  tell  her  how  very  much  he  would  have 
preferred  carrying  out  her  wisnes  had  it  been  pru 
dent  to  have  done  so.  Also  he  would  apologize 
for  the  rude  way  in  which  he  had  spoken,  and  as 
sure  her  that  it  all  grew  out  of  his  anxiety  to  please 
her,  and  the  chagrin  lie  felt  that  he  must  disappoint 
her.  Having  gone  over  every  word  that  he  would 
utter,  and  planned  answers  to  her  probable  replies, 
and  then  rearranged  the  entire  conversation  for 
perhaps  the  dozenth  time,  he  turned  over  his  pillow 
once  more,  resolved  to  get  one  nap  if  possible,  when 
he  was  roused  into  immediate  action  by  a  low 
tap  on  his  door.  A  moment  more,  and  he  stood 


PERPLEXITIES  AND  DECISIONS.  41 

beside  it,  listening  to  Miss  Schuyler's  anxious 
voice  : 

"  Oh,  Ralph,  we  don't  know  what  to  think ;  and 
mother  said  I  would  better  tell  you  at  once.  Mar- 
jorie  isn't  in  her  room  !  Mother  said  perhaps  you 
would  know  what  ought  to  be  done." 

"  Not  in  her  room  !  "  repeated  Ralph  in  utter 
bewilderment  and  consternation.  "  Why,  where 
on  earth  is  she,  then  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  we  don't  know  ;  she  hasn't  been 
there  to-night.  I  mean  she  hasn't  been  to  bed  ;  the 
bed  is  just  as  I  left  it  ;  not  a  thing  disturbed,  and 
there  are  no  traces  in  the  room  of  Marjorie  having 
been  there. 

"  You  see,  the  way  we  found  it  out,"  continued 
Miss  Schuyler,  as  Ralph  having  thrown  on  his 
outer  garments  with  all  speed  opened  wide  the  door, 
"  Sister  Effie  is  ill,  and  mother  needed  a  bottle  of 
medicine  which  was  in  the  corner  closet  in  the  hall- 
room.  She  called  to  me  and  told  me  to  go  in  very 
softly  and  get  it.  I  went  on  tip-toe  so  as  not  to 
disturb  Marjorie,  and  you  can  imagine  the  start 
it  gave  me  to  discover  that  she  was  not  there  at 
all.  Ralph,  what  do  you  think  can  have  become  of 
her  ?  I've  been  inevery  girl's  room,  since, — think 
ing  that  she  might  have  felt  lonely  and  have  gone 
to  stay  with  some  of  them  ;  but  none  of  them  have 
ssen  her  since  she  left  the  parlor  last  evening.  Do 
you  suppose  it  possible  that  she  may  have  started 
for  home,  on  foot,  and  all  alone  !  She  was  so 
anxious  to  go,  you  know.  She  told  me  that  she 


4'2  MAKING  FATE. 

had  never  left  her  mother  alone  before,  and  that 
she  had  as  good  as  promised  her  dead  father  that 
she  never  would.  I  felt  very  sorry  for  her,  but  I 
did  not  imagine  that  she  would  do  any  desperate 
thing." 

Ralph  Bramlett  had  no  answering  word  to  speak. 
He  strode  back  into  his  room,  added  the  finishing 
touches  to  his  toilet  with  a  speed  that  would  have 
amazed  his  sister  Hannah,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  more  was  following"  Jim,"  the  half  asleep 
and  much  aggrieved  Schuyler-coachman,  to  the 
stables.  Never  were  horses  harnessed  in  more 
frantic  haste.  Never  was  Ralph  Bramwell  less 
considerate  of  the  ladies,  who  gathered  about  him 
like  bees.  The  entire  nutting  party  was  out,  eager 
to  give  advice  or  ask  questions. 

"  You  should  have  thought  of  that  before,"  he 
said  grimly  to  Estelle  Douglass,  when  she  sug 
gested  that  she  and  her  sister  ride  with  him,  adding 
that  she  was  afraid  father  would  be  kept  awake  all 
night  worrying  about  them. 

"  The  time  to  have  thought  of  him  was  at  ten 
o'clock  last  night,"  he  said  severely.  "  It  was  a 
very  foolish  proceeding  to  stay  here*all  night;  there 
hasn't  been  a  pleasanter  night  for  riding,  this  fall. 
I  am  not  going  to  take  any  one  with  me.  you  can  all 
wait  here  until  I  come  back ;  I  can  get  on  faster 
alone." 

Saying  which,  he  sprang  into  the  large  empty 
wagon,  rattled  over  the  paved  drive-way,  down  the 
street,  and  was  lost  in  tho  darkness.  The  girls 


PERPLEXITIES  AND  DECISIONS.  43 

looked  after  him  in  shivering  silence  ;  the  moon 
had  set,  and  it  was  that  gloomy,  shivery,  inde 
scribably  dreary  hour  before  the  dawn  of  a  new  day. 

"  Ralph  is  cross,"  ventured  Estelle  Douglass  at 
last. 

"  He  spoke  to  us  as  though  we  were  a  company 
of  naughty  children  in  need  of  a  whipping.  There 
is  no  use  in  his  being  so  excited  ;  nothing  can 
have  happened  to  Marjorie,  except  an  extra  streak 
of  obstinacy.  The  road  is  safe  enough  between 
here  and  town,  and  the  walking  is  good.  Ugh, 
how  cold  it  is  !  One  would  imagine  it  was  January 
instead  of  November  ;  I  think  we  would  all  better 
go  back  to  bed,  and  pray  that  Ralph  may  come  for 
us  in  a  better  humor  than  he  was  when  he  left.  I 
must  say  I  pity  Marjorie.  Ralph  Bramlett  is  a 
perfect  bear  when  he  chooses  to  be." 

Meantime,  the  cause  of  all  this  excitement  was 
unconscious  enough  concerning  it.  It  had  been 
no  part  of  her  intention  to  create  a  sensation  ;  in 
fact,  she  had  planned  little  or  nothing  concerning 
the  people  she  left  behind.  She  had  petitioned 
for,  and  secured,  the  use  of  the  little  hall  bedroom, 
because  she  had  felt  that  it  would  be  utterly  im 
possible,  for  that  evening,  to  laugh  and  talk  with 
those  silly  girls  who  had  suddenly  become  dis 
tasteful  to  her.  When  she  slipped  away  to  it,  she 
was  conscious  that  she  was  in  a  perfect  tumult  of 
pain  and  indignation. 

Anxiety  for  her  mother  was  undoubtedly  upper 
most,  but  there  was  a  wholesome  undertone  of 


44  MAKING  FATE. 

astonishment  and  indignation  at  Ralph  Bramlett. 
Was  she  then  of  so  little  consequence  to  him,  that 
the  chattering  of  half  a  dozen  other  girls  could 
turn  his  mind  completely  away  from  her  wishes  ? 
Two  hours  before,  had  any  one  told  her  that 
she  would  petition  Ralph  Bramlett  for  a  favor 
within  his  power  to  grant,  and  be  denied,  she  would 
have  smiled  incredulously,  and  wondered  what 
there  could  be,  that  she,  having  common  sense, 
would  ask,  that  he  would  refuse.  As  far  back  as 
her  childish  recollection  reached,  she  had  been  able 
to  sway  Ralph  Bramlett  to  her  moods.  It  was  not 
that  he  was  not  positive  enough  by  nature, — 
obstinate,  many  people  called  him ;  she  had  known 
others  to  coax  for  hours  and  fail  to  secure  what 
she  could  obtain  by  a  word  and  a  smile.  It 
had  therefore  been  a  revelation  to  her,  and  by 
no  means  a  pleasant  one,  to  find  that  on  this 
night,  when  she  was  not  only  in  serious  earnest, 
but  very  anxious,  she  had  suddenly  failed.  She 
leaned  her  forehead  against  the  window-pane  and 
looked  out  on  the  moonlighted  world,  and  grew 
more  angry  every  moment.  How  easily  Ralph 
could  have  driven  home  with  her,  if  those  chatter 
ing  idiots  really  persisted  in  staying,  and  have  had 
plenty  of  time  to  rest  his  horses  and  take  some 
rest  himself,  before  returning  for  them  in  the 
early  morning.  How  sure  she  had  felt  that  he 
would  hail  such  a  proposition  witli  delight.  Was 
it  possible  that  he  actually  thought  she  had  gone  too 
far  in  making  it  ?  He  had  reminded  her  how  con- 


PERPLEXITIES  AND  DECISIONS.  45 

spicuous  such  a  proceeding  would  make  them. 
She  remembered  this  with  a  blush  of  shame.  She 
had  occasionally  objected  to  plans  of  his,  on 
that  very  ground;  but  never  before  had  Ralph 
Bramlett  been  other  than  delighted  at  the  thought 
of  being  made  most  conspicuously  her  friend  and 
attendant. 

The  more  she  went  over  in  detail  his  words  and 
looks,  the  more  angry  she  grew  ;  until  at  last  the 
idea  of  submitting  to  his  dictation,  and  remaining 
at  the  farm-house  all  night,  and  riding  meekly 
home  by  his  side  in  the  morning,  like  a  naughty 
child  who  had  tried  to  have  her  own  way  and  had 
failed,  became  utterly  hateful  to  her.  Also,  the 
more  she  thought  of  her  mother  spending  the  long 
weary  hours  of  that  night,  perhaps  quite  alone  in 
the  house ;  (for,  now  that  she  thought  of  it,  pos 
sibly  not  even  Mr.  Maxwell  would  be  there  ;  there 
had  been  some  talk  in  the  morning  about  his  being 
absent  that  night),  the  more  impossible  it  seemed 
that  she  could  permit  such  a  state  of  things. 

"  Father  would  never  have  done  it,"  she  said 
aloud  and  pitifully.  "  He  was  so  tender  of 
mother  ;  and  he  trusted  me.  Oh,  if  I  could  only 
fly!" 

It  was  at  that  moment  that  she  remembered 
that  although  she  could  not  fly,  she  could  walk. 
She  was  well  and  strong,  and  thought  nothing  of 
a  walk  of  several'  miles  for  pleasure.  What  was 
to  hinder  her  starting  at  once  and  making  the 
seven  miles  which  lay  between  her  and  home,  be- 


46  MAKING  FATE. 

fore  those  selfish  people  downstairs  discovered  her 
absence  ?  It  was  as  light  as  day  out  of  doors,  and 
she  knew  every  foot  of  the  way  perfectly  ;  there 
was  really  nothing  to  be  afraid  of.  As  she  con 
sidered  it,  the  idea  grew  fascinating  ;  what  a  re 
lief  it  would  be  to  escape  that  hateful  ride  home 
in  the  morning,  beside  Ralph  Bramlett.  And 
above  all  things  else  how  many  hours  of  anxiety 
could  she  thus  save  that  precious  mother.  She  had 
no  faith  whatever  in  the  plans  for  an  early  start ; 
she  had  heard  of  plans  of  this  character  before  ;  she 
knew  how  fond,  at  least,  some  of  the  party  were  of 
breakfasts  at  the  Schuyler  farmhouse.  It  would  be 
ten  o'clock,  perhaps  even  later,  before  they  could 
reach  .home.  She  would  go  at  once. 

Having  settled  this  momentous  question  she 
gave  herself  no  time  for  reconsideration,  but 
slipping  quietly  into  the  upper  hall  selected  with 
nervous  fingers  her  wraps  from  the  heterogeneous 
mass  which  had  been  landed  on  the  sofa  in  the 
alcove  ;  then,  having  arrayed  herself,  without  regard 
to  the  mirror,  she  went  softly  down  the  heavily  car 
peted  stairs,  and  gliding  like  an  unseen  ghost  past 
the  parlor  doors  while  the  merriment  there  was 
still  at  its  height,  took  the  precaution  to  make  her 
way  through  the  deserted  dining-room  to  a  side 
entrance ;  she  then  crossed  the  lawn,  and  the 
meadow  next  to  it,  and  so  gained  the  road  by  the 
corner  farthest  from  the  parlor  windows,  and  began 
her  walk. 


SHADOWS  AND  "  CHARMS."  47 


CHAPTER  V. 

SHADOWS   AND   "  CHARMS." 

IT  is  doubtful  if  Marjorie  Edmonds,  though  she 
live  to  be  an  old  woman,  will  ever  forget  the  ex 
periences  of  that  night.  Though  by  no  means  a 
timid  person,  her  life  had  been  a  carefully  guarded 
one  in  some  respects,  and  she  was  now  having  her 
first  experience  of  being  on  a  deserted  street  alone 
at  night.  She  had  no  conception  of  how  the 
loneliness  would  affect  her,  or  assuredly  she  would 
have  reconsidered  even  then.  She  ran  a  few  steps, 
in  her  foolish  fear  that  she  might  be  seen  and  capt 
ured  by  her  friends,  but  soon  discovered  that  she 
must  not  waste  strength  in  that  way ;  in  her  ex 
cited  state  of  mind  she  lost  her  breath  so  quickly 
as  to  alarm  her.  She  tried  to  reason  her  fears 
away.  Why  should  she  be  afraid  ?  The  night 
was  so  still,  so  very  still  that  even  the  common 
ordinary  sounds  of  nature  seemed  to  be  lacking, 
and  the  very  silence  alarmed  her.  Then  the  trees 
had  long  naked  arms  which  they  waved  at  her  ;  a 
ghastly  stump  in  the  near  distance  took  human 
shape  and  silently  beckoned  to  her  in  the  moon 
light.  A  great  dog  barked  fiercely  in  the  far  dis 
tance,  but  seemed  to  her  overwrought  nerves  to 


48  MAKING  FATE. 

be  bounding  toward  her.  She  could  almost  feel 
his  hot  breath  on  her  burning  face.  Those  awful 
silent  shadows  among  the  trees  waved  their  arms, 
and  mocked  at  her.  Were  they  silent  ?  She 
thought  she  heard  them  laughing.  In  short,  com 
mon  sense  seemed  for  the  time  being  to  utterly 
desert  this  young  woman,  and  leave  her  a  prey  to 
all  sorts  of  imaginations  which  had  heretofore  been 
unknown  to  her.  Before  she  had  accomplished  a 
third  of  the  distance,  if  she  had  not  by  that  time 
become  equally  afraid  of  all  directions  she  would 
have  turned  back.  Once  she  made  a  full  stop  and 
considered  the  advisability  of  doing  so;  then  a 
curious  feeling  came  over  her  that  it  would  be 
impossible  to  meet  again  the  horrors  through  which 
she  had  already  passed.  Better  unknown  terrors 
than  these ;  so  she  sped  on.  Yet  that  is  hardly  the 
word  to  use ;  there  was  not  much  speed.  She  found 
herself  compelled  to  walk  comparatively  slo  \vly  ; 
her  heart  beat  so  hard  that  it  seemed  to  take 
her  strength.  At  times  there  came  to  her  a  terrible 
fear  that  she  would  faint  dead  away  by  the  road 
side  ;  then,  what  might  not  happen  to  her  before 
the  morning  dawned  !  Once  she  looked  up  appeal- 
^fngly  at  the  moon,  and  was  beset  with  a  new  fear. 
It  was  traveling  fast,  and  might  be  near  its  set 
ting.  What  if  it  should  leave  her  in  the  darkness? 
better  all  those  mocking  shadows  than  this.  At 
last  she  neared  the  Houston  farm ;  not  quite  half 
the  distance  accomplished.  Could  she  possibly  en 
dure  another  hour  like  the  last  one  ?  Should  she  stop 


SHADOWS  AND  "  CHARMS."  49 

at  the  Houston  farm,  tell  her  pitiful  story  and  ask 
shelter  until  morning  ?  How  humiliating  such  a 
course  would  be  !  How  the  Douglass  girls  would 
laugh  at  her,  and  possibly  even  Ralph  Bramlett 
would  sneer.  Still,  it  may  be  that  her  fears  would 
have  gotten  the  better  of  her  pride,  had  they  not 
been  at  that  moment  turned  into  a  new  channel. 
Distinctly  on  the  silent  air  came  the  baying  of  dogs. 
She  remembered  to  have  heard  that  the  Houstons 
kept  watch-dogs — fierce  ones  ;  they  might  tear  her 
in  pieces  before  she  could  make  herself  heard.  She 
could  not  venture  to  seek  help  there.  There  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  go  on ;  since  she  had  lived 
through  half  of  the  way,  it  was  possible  that  she 
might  reach  home  alive  after  all.  She  tried  to 
think  that  she  was  becoming  less  terror-stricken ; 
growing  accustomed  to  those  horrid  skeletons  who 
continually  waved  and  grinned  at  her  in  the  dis 
tance,  and  developed  into  commonplace  leafless 
branches  as  she  neared  them. 

She  went  on  faster  for  some  minutes,  or  hours, 
it  seemed  to  her  ;  then  a  new  terror  defined  itself. 
The  unmistakable  approach  of  horse's  feet  in  the 
distance  ;  no  Sound  of  wheels,  a  horseman  riding 
fast.  What  should  she  do  ?  She,  a  woman,  alone, 
in  the  dead  of  night,  on  the  public  street !  Suppose 
the  rider  should  speak  to  her,  should  stop  ?  Oh 
for  some  friendly  tree  behind  which  to  hide !  The 
skeletons  now  had  lost  their  terror  for  her,  with 
the  first  approach  of  real,  tangible  danger,  they  be 
came  friends,  but  it  so  happened  that  she  had 


50  MAKING  FATE. 

reached  a  stretch  of  road  where  no  trees  were,  and 
the  horseman  was  coming  very  swiftly.  Curiously 
enough  for  the  first  time  that  night  the  girl  realized 
how  unfair  she  had  been  to  her  mother  by  putting 
herself  in  such  a  position  of  possible  danger  as  this. 
She  knew  instinctively  that  her  mother  would 
rather  spend  a  hundred  nights  alone,  than  have 
her  daughter  voluntarily  place  herself  where  insult 
was  possible.  In  the  few  minutes  which  intervened 
while  those  rapid  feet  were  Hearing  her,  it  seemed 
to  Marjorie  that  every  horrible  story  she  had  ever 
heard  or  read,  connected  with  night,  and  darkness, 
and  sin,  came  rushing  to  memory.  Oh,  what  should 
she  do !  If  the  rider  should  speak  to  her,  she 
would  scream  so  loud  that  they  must  hear  her  in 
town,  or  at  some  farm-house  surely.  A  sense  of 
faintness  was  coming  over  her,  but  she  battled 
with  it  and  put  it  sternly  away;  this  was  no  time 
for  fainting ;  she  must  have  all  her  senses  in  order 
and  use  them  well.  It  was  possible,  of  course,  that 
the  belated  traveler  was  a  respectable  person,  who 
would  pass  her  in  swift  silence.  But  he  did  not, 
he  reined  in  his  horse  as  he  drew  near. 

"  Miss  Edmonds,  is  it  not?"  said  a  voice  which 
she  recognized  on  the  instant,  and  at  the  sound  of 
which  all  inclination  to  scream  departed  from  her. 
Before  she  could  gather  breath  to  make  reply  he 
added :  "  You  recognize  me,  do  you  not  ?  I  am 
Mr.  Maxwell."  As  he  spoke  he  dismounted,  and 
throwing  Selim's  bridle  over  his  arm  came  toward 
her. 


SHADOWS  AND  "CHARMS."  51 

"  Oh,  I  am  afraid  I  have  frightened  you  !  "  he 
said,  for  Marjorie  had  dropped,  a  limp  heap,  on  the 
ground.  "  Do  not  be  alarmed  because  I  am  here  ; 
noLhing  is  wrong  with  your  mother ;  but  she  was 
anxious  over  your  detention  and  I  volunteered  to 
bring  her  word  from  you.  Are  you  faint,  Miss 
Edmonds  ?  I  am  afraid  I  have  frightened  you 
very  much.  I  thought  you  would  perhaps  recog 
nize  my  voice  and  so  not  be  alarmed." 

"  I  did,"  said  Marjorie  "  I  am  not  frightened, 
not  now  ; "  and  she  struggled  to  her  feet  trem 
bling  in  every  limb. 

"  I  was  awfully  frightened,  Mr.  Maxwell,"  she 
said,  speaking  between  nervous  shudders,  "  not  at 
you  but  at — everything ;  when  I  heard  the  sound 
of  horse's  feet  and  knew  a  man  must  be  coming,  it 
was  terrible  !  but  now  that  he  is  here  I  am  not  at 
all  afraid !  " 

The  remarkable  seeming  contradiction  in  this 
sentence  struck  her  ludicrously  as  she  said  it,  and 
she  was  nervous  enough  to  laugh  outright. 

Mr.  Maxwell  joined  in  the  laugh ;  it  was  the 
easiest  and  quickest  way  to  quiet  nerves.  Marjorie 
sobered  on  the  instant,  and  was  ready  with  anxious 
questionings  and  explanations. 

"  Is  my  mother  very  much  frightened  Mr.  Max 
well?  Oh,  I  am  afraid  it  will  make  her  ill.  1 
tried  so  hard  to  get  home  earlier,  indeed,  it  was  not 
my  fault.  You  can  know  how  anxious  I  was,  by 
my  being  willing  to  start  away  alone." 

"  I  can  understand  that  better  than  I  can  your 


52  MAKING  FATE. 

being  permitted  to  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell, 
speaking  some  thoughts  which  he  meant  to  have 
kept  to  himself.  He  made  haste  to  add  :  "  Nat 
urally,  your  mother  is  anxious  ;  but  we  shall  be  at 
home  so  soon  now,  that  I  cannot  think  any  harm  will 
result.  Are  you  a  good  walker,  on  occasion,  Miss 
Edmonds  ?  Selim  would  be  delighted  to  carry 
you,  but  I  believe  you  do  not  ride?  " 

They  made  quick  time  after  that.  Marjorie's 
feet  had  regained  their  courage  and  she  found  no 
difficulty  in  keeping  step  with  her  companion. 
Also,  her  fears  had  departed.  The  skeletons  had 
retired  affrighted ;  in  their  places  were  only 
prosaic-looking  trees  whose  bare  branches  might 
wave  as  they  would,  she  cared  not.  There  passed 
a  horseman  who  looked  curiously  at  the  two,  mak 
ing  quick  steps  over  the  road,  with  a  horse  pacing 
haughtily  along  by  their  side ;  there  came  a  wagon 
loaded  with  revelers,  who  sang  and  shouted  as 
they  passed,  but  Marjorie  only  noticed  them  to 
think  how  frightened  she  would  have  been  under 
other  circumstances. 

She  tried  to  give  Mr.  Maxwell  a  history  of  her 
experiences  ;  she  tried  to  make  light  of  her  fears ; 
but  the  memory  of  them  was  too  vivid ;  and  it 
became  apparent  to  her  escort  that  she  was  still 
very  much  excited. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  are  not  acquainted  with  my 
talisman  ? "  he  said  cheerily.  "  When  I  was  a 
little  fellow  it  was  my  fortune  to  be  much  alone. 
One  of  my  duties  involved  a  long  walk  daily,  or 


SIIA D 0 WS  AND  "  CfIA RMS: '  53 

rather  nightly,  for  it  was  after  the  sun  had  set, — • 
through  a  piece  of  woods  where  the  shadows  were 
dense.  I  appreciate  your  statement  about  the 
trees  waving  their  arms  at  you.  Mine  went 
farther  than  that ;  they  shrieked,  and  howled,  on 
occasion,  and  sometimes  called  after  me  ;  at  least, 
so  I  had  seasons  of  almost  believing.  I  do  not 
suppose  there  was  any  very  real  danger,  though 
occasionally  a  bear  did  prowl  about  those  woods, 
but  my  fears  were  as  real  as  though  the  danger 
had  been  imminent,  and  I  suffered  from  them  in  a 
way  that  unimaginative  people  cannot  understand. 
One  night  I  found  a  talisman ;  it  worked  grandly, 
and  has  served  me  a  good  turn  many  a  time  since, 
when  I  was  in  real  peril.  It  is  associated  in  my 
mind  with  my  dear  old  grandmother.  Have  you 
a  grandmother,  Miss  Edmonds  ?  I  consider  a  life 
defrauded  of  a  large  portion  of  its  joys  that  cannot 
look  back  to  grandmother's  room  as  a  place  for 
comfort,  and  grandmother's  prayers  as  a  strong 
hold.  Curiously  enough  mine  was  the  only  one  to 
whom  I  was  willing  to  confide  my  fears.  I  think 
I  desired  to  pose  as  a  hero  before  my  dear  mother ; 
father  was  absent  from  home  much  of  the  time, 
and  I  was  her  care-taker ;  not  for  the  world 
would  I  have  hinted  to  her  that  that  half-mile 
walk  was  one  of  terror,  at  times ;  but  my  grand 
mother  was  little  and  old,  and  could  not  walk  at 
all,  and  seemed  to  be  young  enough  to  understand 
all  my  feelings.  One  night,  as  I  said,  she  gave 
me  a  charm." 


54  MAKING  FATE. 

"  I  have  heard  of  charms,"  said  Marjorie,  try 
ing  to  be  merry.  "  Do  you  wear  it  about  with 
you,  Mr.  Maxwell  ?  And  could  you  lend  it,  do 
you  think?  Because  if  I  were  ever  to  be  caught  in 
this  way  again,  I  am  sure  I  should  need  it.  In 
deed,  I  feel  as  though  I  could  never  go  through 
such  an  experience  as  this  again." 

The  voice  which  had  begun  with  a  merry  note, 
turned  to  gravity  and  Marjorie  shivered  sensibly  ; 
evidently  she  had  not  yet  regained  the  healthy  poise 
of  her  usual  condition.  Her  companion  made 
haste  to  speak  cheerily. 

"  I  would  not  think  of  it,  Miss  Edmonds  ;  it  is 
highly  improbable  that  you  will  be  called  upon  to 
take  night-walks  through  the  country  alone.  But 
about  the  charm  ;  I  wear  it  constantly,  engraved 
where  it  can  never  be  erased.  Yet  it  is  a  very 
simple  little  thing  and  you  can,  at  will,  be  furnished 
with  it.  These  are  the  words  which  compose  it: 
'  What  time  I  am  afraid  I  will  trust  in  Thee.'  I  do 
not  know  that  I  can  make  you  understand  what  a 
revelation  it  was  tome,  when  my  grandmother  first 
succeeded  in  getting  it  into  my  heart  that  God 
actually  cared  for  me  every  minute  ;  watched  over 
my  goings  and  comings,  and  was  near  at  hand  for 
me  to  speak  to  whenever  I  would,  so  that  in  reality 
it  was  impossible  for  me  to  take  walks  alone.  'If 
you  ought  to  be  going  that  way, '  said  the  dear  old 
lady,  and  I  can  seem  at  this  moment  to  hear  her  im 
pressive  voice,  and  see  her  small  withered  fore 
finger  upheld  for  emphasis.  '  If  you  ought  to  be 


SHADOWS  AND  "  CHARMS."  55 

going  that  way,  then  be  sure  He  is  going  along 
with  you ;  and  you  need  not  even  whisper,  to  get 
His  attention.  He  hears  your  heart  beat  and  knows 
all  about  it.  But  it  is  a  great  comfort  to  speak  to 
Him,  my  boy.' — I  found  it  so,  Miss  Edmonds,  and, 
as  I  said,  the  blessed  fact  has  gone  with  me 
through  the  years." 

Marjorie  Edmonds  was  absolutely  silent.  She 
had  no  words  with  which  to  meet  such  an  experience 
as  this.  Truth  to  tell,  she  knew  nothing  about  God 
as  a  living,  present  reality.  Many  of  her  friends, 
young  people  like  herself,  were  professors  of 
religion,  and  it  will  have  to  be  confessed  that 
Marjorie,  perhaps  without  realizing  it,  had  prided 
herself  on  the  fact  that  she  was  not. 

"Why  should  I  join  the  Church?  "  she  had  asked 
lightly  of  a  girl-friend,  who,  during  the  time  of 
special  interest  following  the  week  of  prayer,  had 
urged  her  to  this  step.  "  I  do  not  see  the  slightest 
difference  in  you  since  you  joined,  save  that  you 
go  to  the  communion  service  when  you  feel  like 
it.  As  for  me,  I  have  obligations  enough 
now  which  I  do  not  meet,  to  undertake  any 
new  ones.  At  least,  until  I  see  occasion  for  doing 
so." 

This  was  not  altogether  sincere  ;  no  one  knew 
better  then  Marjorie  Edmonds  that  there  was  such 
a  thing  as  vital  religion.  Mother  and  father  had 
lived  it  before  her  through  all  the  years  of  her 
recollection.  It  is  true,  her  mother's  training, 
and  possibly  her  temperament  made  her  more 


56  MAKING  FATE. 

reserved  upon  this  subject  than  any  other ;  still  the 
controlling  motive-power  of  her  life  was  Jesus 
Christ,  and  Marjorie  knew  it.  But  aside  from  her 
mother,  Marjorie's  experience  among  professed 
Christians  was  perhaps  unfortunate.  She  had  a 
high  ideal,  and  often  said  to  herself,  and  occasion 
ally  aloud,  that  if  she  ever  did  become  a  Christian 
she  would  be  a  different  one  from  any  with  whom 
she  was  acquainted.  She  always  made  a  mental 
reservation  of  her  parents,  her  pastor,  and  possibly 
two  or  three  others;  but  all  of  these  were  old;  or 
at  least  they  were  much  older  than  she,  and  she  had 
allowed  herself  to  more  then  half  believe  that 
religion,  or,  at  least,  consistent  living  was  for  the 
old;  therefore  she  would  wait  until  there  would 
be  some  hope  of  her  being  consistent,  before  she 
would  make  the  attempt. 

But  Mr.  Maxwell  was  young ;  he  could  not  be 
very  much  older  than  Ralph  Bramlett  himself ; 
and  his  manner  of  speaking  of  these  things  was 
new  to  her.  He  had  a  sort  of  quiet  assurance,  a 
matter-of-course  way  of  talking  of  religion  as  he 
would  of  any  other  subject.  Moreover,  he  spoke 
of  God  as  though  He  were  a  real,  ever-present 
friend,  instead  of  a  far-away  solemnity  to  be 
spoken  of  and  thought  about  as  little  as  possible. 
This,  she  confessed  to  herself,  was  the  way  in 
which  she  habitually  thought  of  him. 

"  I  do  not  think  I  know  how  to  use  your  talis 
man,"  she  said  timidly,  and  wished  that  he  would 
talk  of  something  else.  By  way  of  helping  him 


SHADOWS  AND  "  CHARMS."  57 

to  do  so,  she  began  an  eager  account  of  the  day's 
pleasuring,  entering  into  a  detailed  description  of 
the  beauty  of  the  glen  where  their  lunch  was 
spread,  and  the  lovely  fire  they  had  built  to  roast 
their  corn,  and  the  picturesqueness  of  the  whole 
scene,  with  their  coffee-pail  hung  on  an  improvised 
crane,  made  of  pointed  sticks  interlaced. 

"A  regular  gypsy-camp,  Mr.  Maxwell,"  she 
said.  "  The  great  pail  in  which  we  had  our  coffee 
swayed  back  and  forth  over  the  coals  just  as  I 
have  seemed  to  see  it  do  in  pictures  of  gypsy  en 
campments.  All  we  lacked  was  the  old  fortune 
teller.  I  thought  at  one  time  of  personating  her. 
You  should  have  been  with  us,  if  you  like  strange, 
and  almost  uncanny  views  in  nature.  You  have 
heard  of  the  place,  have  you  not  ?  It  has  a  good 
deal  of  local  fame.  There  is  a  hill  ever  so  high 
just  back  of  the  glen ;  almost  a  mountain  it  might 
be  called,  and  rocks  with  great  jagged  fissures  in 
them.  There  are  some  fine  specimens  to  be  found 
in  that  region,  the  wise  ones  say.  Aren't  you  a 
geologist,  Mr.  Maxwell  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  know  nothing  about  geology,  ex 
cept  at  second  hand  ;  I  ask  questions  occasionally, 
and  pick  up  disconnected  bits  of  information  in 
that  way.  But  I  love  to  look  at  those  great  solid 
rocks  that  have  stood  there  for  ages,  and  imagine 
things  about  them." 

"Our  day  was  all  lovely  until  that  storm  came 
on.  What  a  terrific  storm  it  was  !  I  was  so  wor 
ried  not  to  be  at  home  on  mother's  account.  She 


58  MAKING  FATE. 

is  inclined  to  be  nervous  during  a  thunder-storm. 
Were  you  at  home  during  the  rain,  and  did  you 
see  my  mother  ?  " 

With  these  and  kindred  subjects  she  kept 
up  a  steady  flow  of  words,  and  as  she  had  by  this 
time  regained  her  wonted  strength  they  walked 
rapidly,  and  very  soon  turning  a  corner  the  lights 
from  the  home  windows  streamed  out  upon  them. 


HOME-COMLffQS.  59 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOME-COMINGS. 

WHEN  her  foot  touched  the  lower  step,  Marjorie 
heard  the  click  of  the  lock,  and  in  another 
moment  her  mother's  arms  were  around  her,  and 
"  Oh,  mother  !  "  and  "  Oh,  my  daughter  !  "  came 
simultaneously  from  their  lips. 

"You  see,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  "I  have  kept  my 
word  and  brought  her  back  to  you  in  safety." 

His  voice  recalled  them  to  the  knowledge  of  his 
presence,  and  Mrs.  Edmonds  broke  off  in  the 
midst  of  the  questions  she  was  eagerly  asking,  to 
give  attention  to  her  benefactor.  Was  Mr.  Max 
well  still  planning  to  take  that  long  ride  across 
the  country? 

No ;  he  had  decided  to  wait  until  another  day. 
There  were  reasons  why  it  would  be  pleasanter  to 
make  a  very  early  start.  He  was  anxious  to  get  a 
view  of  the  sunrise  at  a  certain  famous  point,  and 
the  sun  would  be  in  too  much  haste  for  him  this 
morning. 

Then  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not 
take  a  very  early  ^breakfast  with  them  as  soon  as 
he  had  cared  for  his  horse. 

Mrs.  Edmonds,  having  finished    with  Gideon, 


60  MAKING  FATE. 

had  further  employed  herself  in  resurrecting  the 
kitchen  fire  and  rearranging  her  culinary  arrange 
ments,  making  a  breakfast  instead  of  a  supper,  and 
laying  the  table  for  three,  instead  of  the  usual 
two.  Surely,  Mr.  Maxwell  would  be  persuaded 
to  join  them ;  it  would  be  several  hours  yet 
before  his  regular  breakfast  time,  and  he  must  be 
quite  faint  with  his  long  walk. 

He  was  not  in  the  least  faint,  he  assured  her, 
and  was  used  to  long  walks  at  almost  any  hour  of 
the  day  or  night.  But  the  table  set  in  the  back 
parlor  made  a  very  inviting  picture,  and  the  odor 
of  something  savory  was  already  in  the  air.  There 
was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  enjoy  an  unusual 
breakfast  at  this  unusual  hour,  and  he  promptly 
accepted  the  invitation ;  then  went  to  "  explain 
matters  to  Selim,"  leaving  mother  and  daughter  to 
themselves. 

"  Oh,  mother !  "  said  Marjorie  with  her  arms  about 
the  mother's  neck  again  as  soon  as  the  door  closed 
after  Mr.  Maxwell,  "  I  have  had  such  a  time  !  You 
cannot  think  how  hard  I  tried  to  get  here  at  a  rea 
sonable  hour  and  in  a  reasonable  way.  I  was  so 
troubled  about  you  and  so  indignant.  I  never 
imagined  that — people" — with  a  perceptible  pause 
before  she  decided  upon  the  noun  to  use — "  could 
be  so  silly  and  disagreeable.  I  can't  think  what 
was  the  matter  with — them." 

Said  Mrs.  Edmonds,  "  They^will  be  frightened, 
dear,  will  they  not,  when  they  find  that  you  are 
gone?" 


HOME-COMINGS.  61 

"  I  hope  so  !  "  was  the  savage  answer  ;  u  they 
deserve  to  be  frightened  after  doing  such  an  utterly 
absurd  thing  as  to  stay  there  all  night."  Then, 
apparently  summoning  her  resolution,  she  added  : 
"  Mother,  Ralph  was  hateful  beyond  anything  I 
could  have  believed  possible."  At  which  informa 
tion  Mrs.  Edmonds  preserved  a  discreet  silence. 

Within  a  very  short  time  thereafter,  three  peo 
ple  were  seated  at  the  coziest  breakfast-table  which 
could  have  been  found, — at  least  at  that  hour  of 
the  morning. 

It  was  when  Mr.  Maxwell  was  taking  his  second 
cup  of  coffee,  and  remarking  that  there  were  possi 
bilities,  evidently,  in  coffee,  of  which  people  who 
boarded  did  not  dream,  that  there  came  a  sharp 
peal  of  the  door-bell  which  caused  mother  and 
daughter  to  give  little  nervous  starts  and  look  at 
each  other. 

"  It  is  an  early  hour  for  a  call,"  said  Mr.  Max 
well,  noticing  the  glances,  and  rising  as  he  spoke, 
"  I  think  you  would  better  let  me  answer  that  bell." 

A  moment  afterwards,  from  the  wide-open  door, 
Ralph  Bramlett  had  a  view  which  photographed 
itself  upon  his  memory.  A  cozy  dining-room 
whose  breakfast-table  he  had  often  pictured  to 
himself,  and  wondered  how  it  would  seem  to  be 
enough  at  home  there  to  be  a  breakfast-table  guest ; 
mother  and  daughter  seated  thereat,  and,  opposite 
the  daughter,  a  place  which  had  evidently  just 
been  vacated  ;  and  Mr.  Maxwell,  napkin  in  hand, 
standing  at  his  ease  before  him  saying  in  quiet, 


62  MAKING  FATE. 

matter-of-course  tones,  "  Oh,  yes,  Miss  Edmonds 
is  at  home  and  quite  safe.  Nothing  serious  hap 
pened  to  her,  I  believe,  although  naturally  the 
necessity  for  taking  a  walk  alone  at  that  time  of 
night  was  not  agreeable  to  a  lady.  Will  you 
walk  in,  Mr.  Bramlett,  and  see  the  ladies  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Ralph  curtly,  "  there  seems  to  be 
no  occasion  for  my  presence."  The  poor  fellow 
noted  as  he  spoke  that  Marjorie  did  not  even  turn 
her  head  at  the  sound  of  his  voice.  It  made  his 
next  sentence  more  savage.  u  She  has  given  us  a 
precious  scare  ;  but  since  she  is  all  right,  of  course 
that  is  of  no  consequence." 

And  then  Ralph  Bramlett  turned  and  strode  out 
into  the  gray  dawn,  and  climbed  into  his  lonesome 
wagon,  more  thoroughly  out  of  sorts  with  himself 
and  with  Marjorie,  and  above  all  with  Mr.  Maxwell, 
than  can  be  described.  In  excuse  for  him  let  it 
be  remembered  that  he  had  had  a  trying  night,  and  a 
very  nerve-disturbing  ride.  As  he  rattled  at  reck 
less  speed  over  the  road  visions  of  all  the  uncanny 
things  he  had  ever  heard  about  the  night  and  the 
darkness  seemed  to  come  hurrying  before  him. 
What  if  Marjorie  had  fallen  in  with  a  company  of 
drunken  revellers  on  their  way  home  from  the 
races  ?  What  if  she  had  fallen,  and  hurt  herself, 
and  lay  unconscious  under  some  of  these  gloomy 
trees  ?  Still,  this  latter  fancy  did  not  disturb  him 
long  ;  he  was  entirely  familiar  with  the  road,  and 
rapidly  as  he  was  driving,  no  clump  of  trees,  or 
hiding-place  of  any  sort  escaped  him.  Marjorie 


HOME-COMINGS.  63 

was  not  in  visible  shape  anywhere  along  his  way  ; 
of  this  he  was  certain.  But  what  then  had  become 
of  her  ?  It  did  not  seem  to  him  possible  that  she 
could  have  managed  all  the  distance  alone,  and  in 
the  darkness,  and  have  actually  reached  home  ;  so, 
as  he  neared  the  town  and  still  saw  no  trace  of  the 
missing  one,  his  nerves  became  almost  as  much  out 
of  order  as  Marjorie's  own.  Therefore,  to  find  her 
seated  comfortably  at  a  cozy  breakfast-table  was 
both  a  relief  and  a  shock  to  him. 

Never  was  gloomier  ride  taken  than  he  took  that 
morning  back  to  the  Schuyler  farm.  In  the  first 
place,  he  had  an  absolute  horror  of  going  back  to 
meet  those  chattering  girls  and  silly  boys.  He 
considered  the  feasibility  of  driving  home  and 
sending  Ben,  their  man-of-all-work,  in  his  place  ; 
but  the  explanations  which  would  necessarily  re 
sult,  not  only  to  his  father  and  mother,  but  to 
Hannah,  and  also  the  merciless  fire  of  ridicule 
which  he  would  have  to  receive  eventually  from 
the  tongue  of  Estelle  Douglass,  held  him  from  this 
course.  He  "  might  as  well  go  back  at  once  and 
meet  the  idiots  and  have  it  over  with,"  he  muttered 
to  himself.  And  as  he  drove  wearily  over  the  road, 
he  added  that  it  would  be  many  a  day  before  he 
would  lend  himself  to  an  escapade  of  theirs  again. 
Have  some  pity  for  Ralph  Bramlett,  for  he  was  in 
sore  need  of  it.  Only  too  vividly  did  he  realize  his 
mistake  of  the  night  before.  Who  would  have 
imagined  that  Marjorie  was  so  anxious  to  get 
home  !  He  had  supposed  that  she  would  fret  about 


64  MAKING  FATE. 

it  for  a  few  minutes,  like  other  girls  ;  but  that 
when  she  found  that  her  way  was  hedged  and  she 
in  no  wise  to  blame,  would  cast  it  aside,  and  have 
a  merry  evening  with  the  rest.  And  how  he  had 
looked  forward  to  that  morning  ride  with  Marjorie 
sitting  beside  him  watching  the  sunrise  !  Now 
the  first  streaks  of  red  were  gilding  the  eastern 
sky,  but  he  did  not  so  much  as  turn  his  head  to 
give  the  monarch  of  the  day  a  glance.  What  did 
he  care  for  sunrises  ?  He  had  seen  too  many  of 
them  alone  ;  this  sunrise  was  to  have  been  gilded 
with  Marjorie's  presence,  and  he  had  deliberately 
put  her  from  him  !  This  was  his  mood  for  a  few 
minutes  at  a  time  ;  at  others,  he  blamed  her  se 
verely.  One  moment,  he  sternly  assured  himself 
that  she  would  have  to  apologize  for  this  night's 
work  if  she  wished  to  retain  his  friendship  ;  the 
next,  he  felt  a  cold  shiver  creeping  over  him  at 
the  thought  that  possibly  she  was  really  and  per 
manently  offended.  What  if  she  should  break 
with  him  ?  But  that  was  folly.  It  could  not  be 
that  she  cared  so  little  for  him. 

"If  she  should,"  he  told  himself  bitterly  "I 
should  know  the  reason.  It  will  be  because  that 
meddling  stranger  to  whom  they  rented  rooms 
has  been  paying  her  attention  and  turned  her 
head.  What  do  they  know  about  him  ?  What 
right  has  he  at  their  table  at  this  hour  of  the  morn 
ing?  And  to  come  mincing  out  to  me  to  tell  me 
that  she  was  entirely  safe  and  comfortable !  What 
business  was  it  of  his  ?  What  right  have  they  to 


HOME-COMINGS.  65 

let  an  entire  stranger  into  their  family  circle  in 
this  way?  I  have  known  Marjorie  Edmonds  ever 
since  she  was  a  baby  and  I  have  never  been  at  their 
breakfast-table." 

On  the  whole,  the  ride  back  was  fully  as 
uncofnfortable,  though  in  a  different  way,  as  the 
hurried  rush  to  town  had  been. 

Very  little  satisfaction  did  the  eager  group 
which  was  seated  at  the  Schuyler  breakfast-table 
when  he  returned,  get  from  him.  Beyond  the 
bare  fact  that  Marjorie  was  at  home,  and  quite  safe, 
they  could  get  no  information,  cross-question  as 
they  would.  In  point  of  fact  Ralph  Bramlett  had 
no  information  to  give.  His  own  indignation  had 
prevented  him  from  hearing  particulars. 

"  He  is  a  perfect  savage  ! "  said  Estelle  Doug 
lass  gathering  her  wraps  in  great  indignation,  as 
the  girls  informed  her  that  Ralph  said  whoever 
was  not  ready  to  go  in  five  minutes  would  be  left 
behind.  "  He  is  a  perfect  savage,  this  morning. 
I  never  knew  before  that  he  could  be  so  ungentle- 
manly.  I  believe  he  and  Marjorie  have  had  a 
quarrel;  nothing  else  will  account  for  such  a  bear 
ish  state  of  mind.  I  don't  see  why  he  should 
want  to  visit  her  sins  on  Us  ;  we  are  not  to  blame." 

In  point  of  fact,  none  of  the  excursionists  enjoyed 
the  homeward  ride  as  they  had  planned  the  night 
before  that  they  would  do.  The  glamour  of  night 
and  moonlight  were  gone;  it  was  prosaic  daylight, 
and  for  some  of  them  the  day's  cares  were  waiting 
and  would  be  the  heavier  because  of  this  late  be- 


66  MAKING  FATE. 

ginning.  The  Douglass^irls,now  that  the  excite 
ment  was  over,  had  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that 
they  had  deprived  their  father  of  a  good  night's 
rest;  and  each  confessed  secretly  that  it  was  a 
shame  to  take  their  pleasure  at  the  expense  of 
an  invalid's  sleep.  Of  course  it  was  ridiculous 
for  father  to  be  so  nervous  over  them.  They  had 
said  so,  dozens  of  times,  and  had  done  what  they 
could  to  educate  him  to  a  knowledge  of  the  un 
certainty  of  their  comings  ;  still  the  fact  of  his 
"  nervousness  "  remained,  and  they  knew  it.  To 
add  to  Estelle  Douglass'  discomfort  there  was  an 
unpleasant  consciousness  on  her  part  that  she  was 
to  blame  for  the  night's  detention  and  the  em 
barrassments  which  had  resulted.  It  was  of  no 
use  for  her  to  assure  herself  that  Ralph  need  not 
have  stayed  if  he  had  not  chosen,  no  matter  what 
she  said.  No  one  was  more  conscious  than  she  of 
the  power  that  ridicule  had  over  Ralph,  or  was 
more  eager  to  show  her  influence  over  him.  There 
was  a  source  of  disappointment,  also,  known  only 
to  herself ;  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  had  been  an 
intention  to  soothe  and  comfort  Ralph  this  morn 
ing  ;  to  speak  just  the  words  which  she  felt  he 
needed  in  order  to  reinstate  him  in  his  good  opin 
ion  of  himself ;  and  in  short,  to  show  herself  so 
marked  a  contrast  to  Marjorie  that  he  could  not 
fail  to  note  the  difference  between  them.  During 
her  period  of  waiting,  she  had  even  planned  some 
of  the  words  she  would  say  to  him,  and,  presuming 
upon  his  probable  replies,  had  carried  on  quite  an 


67 

extended  conversation,  with  such  satisfactory  re 
sults  that  by  the  time  they,  in  imagination,  reached 
home,  she  and  Ralph  had  become  better  friends 
than  ever  before;  even  confidential  friends.  Of 
course  this  plan  involved  her  occupying  the  seat 
which  Marjorie's  flight  had  left  vacant ;  but  the 
facts  in  the  case  were  that  she  had  a  seat  as  far 
away  from  Ralph  as  could  well  be  managed.  She 
was  the  last  one  to  come  downstairs,  as  indeed  she 
always  was,  and  Ralph  had  without  ceremony  and 
with  much  speed  seated  his  company  before  she 
appeared ;  dumping  that  "  dull  little  Belle  Finlay  " 
into  the  vacant  seat  beside  himself.  As  Belle 
Finlay  was  entirely  satisfied  to  ride  for  miles,  if 
necessary,  without  speaking,  and  looked  upon 
Ralph  much  as  she  did  upon  her  brother,  that 
young  man  was  able  to  continue  his  gloomy 
thoughts  during  much  of  the  homeward  journey. 
Not  one  of  the  party  felt  merry  ;  the  reaction  from 
late  hours  and  undue  excitement  was  upon  them. 
To  add  to  their  discomfort,  the  sun,  which  although 
unnoticed,  had  risen  in  glory,  soon  retired  behind 
dull  gray  clouds,  and  before  they  were  half-way  to 
town  a  dreary  rain  began  to  fall.  Not  a  majestic 
shower  with  splendid  spectacular  accompaniments 
compelling  their  attention,  as  on  the  night  before, 
but  a  slow  fine  November  drizzle,  chilling  them 
to  the  bone. 

"I  never  was  so  glad  to  get  home  in  my 
life  !  "  was  Estelle  Douglass's  exclamation  as  she 
shook  the  raindrops  from  her  and  shivered. 


68  MAKING  FATU. 

"Wasn't  it  a  horrid  drive?  I  believe  Ralph 
came  as  slow  as  he  could  so  as  to  add  to  our  dis 
comfort  as  much  as  possible.  Hasn't  he  behaved 
like  a  South  Sea  Islander,  or  some  other  un 
civilized  being,  ever  since  Marjorie  disappeared  ?  " 

"  Disappeared  !  "  said  Mrs.  Douglass,  catching 
the  last  word  as  she  came  to  the  assistance  of  her 
daughters.  "  What  has  happened  to  Marjorie  ? 
Why,  child,  you  are  wet  to  the  skin  !  You  must 
have  held  the  umbrella  so  that  it  dripped  right 
down  your  back,  instead  of  protecting  you.  And 
I  am  afraid  your  dress  is  spoiled;  the  lining  from 
your  sack  has  discolored  it.  What  a  pity  that  you 
wore  that  dress  !  Fanny,  your  sack  is  streaked,  too. 
Dear  me !  What  a  condition  to  get  home  in. 
Why  didn't  you  come  last  night  ?  " 

"  We  couldn't,"  said  Estelle  briefly.  After  a 
moment,  during  which  she  was  engaged  in  discover 
ing  how  seriously  the  skirt  she  had  "  borrowed  " 
without  leave,  was  mud-stained,  -she  added  : 
"  Didn't  you  see  and  hear  it  rain  last  night  ?  Of 
course  you  didn't  expect  us  after  that.  I  never 
saw  it  rain  harder." 

"  Why,  we  did  not  so  early,  of  course,  but  by 
ten  o'clock  the  rain  was  over.  Your  father  lay 
awake  watching  for  every  sound.  His  head  is 
very  bad  this  morning,  and  he  had  a  poor  turn 
with  his  heart  just  about  daylight.  That's  no 
wonder  though,  after  such  a  night.  It  was  after 
midnight  when  your " 

Then  Fanny  interrupted  her.     "  Mother,  do  help 


SOME-COMINGS.  69 

me  get  off  this  horrid  sack.  It  is  so  wet  it  sticks 
to  my  dress  as  though  it  were  glued.  Is  father 
worse,  did  you  say  ?  I  don't  see  why  he  has  to  lie 
awake  and  fret  about  us.  We  shall  get  so  by  and 
by  that  we  will  have  to  play  Marjorie  Edmonds' 
role  when  we  are  out  in  the  evening." 

"  What  did  you  say  had  happened  to  Marjorie  ? 
No  accident,  I  hope?" 

"  Nothing  happened  to  her  except  to  act  like  an 
idiot,  and  create  a  sensation  which  will  last,  I  don't 
know  how  long,  in  its  effects.  She  was  determined 
to  get  home,  it  seems,  although  Ralph  was  afraid 
of  another  thunder-storm  and  did  not  like  to  take 
the  horses  out.  So  she  came  home  on  foot,  in  the 
middle  of  the  night." 

"  On  foot !  "  said  Mrs.  Douglass  in  amazement 
and  dismay.  "Why,  the  poor  child  !*  not  alone? 
Dear  me  !  What  a  state  she  must  have  been  in  !  I 
don't  think  much  of  the  gentlemen  you  had  with 
you,  to  let  her  do  it." 

"Why  they  didn't  know  about  it,"  explained 
Fanny.  "  We  none  of  us  knew  anything  about  it. 
We  didn't  think  of  such  a  thing." 

She  attempted  to  make  the  facts  plain  to  the 
mother ;  but  Estelle,  who  was  hunting  through 
drawers  and  boxes  for  certain  articles  of  clothing, 
interrupted : 

"  Do,  Fanny,  let  us  have  a  rest  from  that  subject 
for  a  little  while.  I'm  tired  of  it;  aren't  you? 
Mother,  can  3-011  imagine  where  my  brown  skirt  is  ? 
Where  is  Glyde?  I  wonder  if  she  has  had  it." 


70  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Glyde  !  "  said  Mrs.  Douglass  brought  suddenly 
face  to  face  with  her  tremendous  news ;  "  why,  she 
has  gone  to  New  York." 

And  now  the  feelings  of  Estelle  Douglass  must 
be  imagined  ;  they  cannot  be  described. 


IV HAT  NEXT?"  71 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"WHAT     NEXT?" 

"  WELL,"  said  Uncle  Anthony  as  he  tried  to 
tilt  back  in  what  he  called  a  "  biscuit"  chair  which 
was  in  Glyde's  room  on  the  third  floor  of  a  large 
hotel,  and  surveyed  her  expectant  face  with  a 
mixture  of  amusement  and  satisfaction,  "what 
next  ?  I  suppose  you  have  had  a  dull  day  ;  it  is 
beyond  me  to  understand  what  you  could  have 
found  to  amuse  you  ;  but  to  judge  from  your  story 
and  your  face  you  have  had  excellent  success  ;  and 
my  qualms  of  conscience  over  your  loneliness  have 
been  wasted." 

Glyde  laughed  gleefully.  "  I  never  thought  of 
being  lonely,"  she  said.  "  There  were  so  many 
things  to  look  at  out  of  the  windows  ;  and  such 
crowds  of  people  passing  all  the  time.  It  did 
not  seem  possible  that  they  could  all  know  just 
exactly  where  they  wanted  to  go,  and  what  they 
wanted  to  do." 

Her  uncle  laughed,  but  said,  with  a  shade  of 
gravity  in  his  voice :  "  It  is  safe  to  state  that 
about  one-third  of  them  were  going  exactly  where 
they  ought  not,  and  another  third  were  doing 


72  MAKING  FATE. 

exactly  what  they  didn't  want  to.     That  is  about 
the  proportion  in  New  York,  I  think." 

It  was  the  evening  of  their  first  day  in  the  city. 
Uncle  Anthony,  having  established  his  travelling 
companion  in  excellent  quarters  and  surrounded 
her  with  what  was,  to  her,  the  very  extravagance  of 
luxury,  had  been  obliged  to  leave  her  quite  to  her 
self  during  business  hours.  He  had  rushed  from 
one  point  to  another  in  extreme  haste,  all  the 
time  distressed  by  the  thought  that  the  "little 
girl  "  as  he  called  her  in  his  thoughts,  whom  he 
had  brought  away  from  home  and  mother  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life  must  have  suoh  a  wretched 
beginning  to  her  holiday.  It  was,  therefore,  a 
happy  surprise  on  returning  to  the  hotel  just  in 
time  for  dinner,  to  find  her  face  as  bright  as  the 
day  had  been.  While  they  were  at  dinner  she 
gave  him  eager  descriptions  of  the  wonders  she 
had  seen  from  the  windows.  In  this,  as  in  all 
other  respects,  she  was  a  contrast  to  her  sister 
Estelle.  When,  on  a  memorable  occasion  he  took 
that  young  lady  to  Syracuse  with  him,  he  re 
membered  she  had  found  the  hours  that  she  had 
been  compelled  to  solitude,  with  no  other  em 
ployment  than  window-gazing,  such  intolerable 
bores  as  to  lead  him  at  times  to  seriously  doubt 
whether  the  delightful  evenings  and  the  few 
hours  of  daylight  which  he  could  spare  her,  were 
sufficient  compensation  for  such  martyrdom.  Yet 
her  windows  had  been  much  more  hopeful  of 
possible  entertainment  than  were  Clyde's. 


"  WHAT  NEXT?"  73 

That  young  lady  regarded  him  with  a  serious, 
half  wistful  look  in  response  to  the  alarming 
statement  he  made  about  the  people  she  had 
watched,  and  said  timidly  :  "  They  all  looked  com 
fortable,  Uncle  Anthony ;  I  was  thinking  about 
that,  this  afternoon.  I  have  heard  and  read  a  good 
many  things  about  the  poor  of  New  York  ;  but  I 
haven't  seen  a  single  really  ill-dressed  or  very 
doleful  looking  person  this  entire  day.  They  all 
hurried  by  as  though  they  knew  just  where  to  go, 
and  how  to  plan  for  themselves." 

Uncle  Anthony  laughed  again.  "You  are  not 
in  the  right  quarter  of  the  city  to  see  the  sights  in 
the  way  of  dress,  for  instance,  of  either  extreme,"  he 
said.  "  I  could  take  you  to  portions  of  this  interest 
ing  town  where  you  would  get  a  glimpse  of  the  poor ; 
but  I  think  we  will  try  to  do  something  pleasanter, 
at  least  this  evening.  I  suppose  you  would  like 
to  go  to  the  theatre  ?  Have  you  selected  the  point 
you  want  to  aim  for?  You  received  the  evening 
paper  I  sent  up,  didn't  you?  Where  is  it  ?  I 
haven't  had  time  to  see  what  is  going  on." 

"  Here  is  the  paper  Uncle  Anthony,  but " 

He  noticed  at  once  the  change  of  tone,  and 
turned  quickly  and  looked  at  her. 

u  Well,"  he  said,  "  what  is  it  ?  Have  you  some 
other  plan  ?  Let  us  have  it,  in  that  case.  I  have 
no  object  in  view  except  to  give  you  as  pleasant 
an  evening  as  I  can.  I  mentioned  the  theatre,  be 
cause  that  is  always  Estelle's  first  thought. 
Where  do  you  want  to  go?" 


74  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Oh,  I  haven't  any  plans,  Uncle  Anthony,  and 
I  want  to  go  where  ever  you  wish  to  take  me  ; 

only  I  thought ''  she  stopped  again,  It  seemed 

difficult  for  her  to  frame  sentences  to  her  satisfac 
tion. 

Her  uncle  waited,  however,  apparently  not  in 
tending  to  assist  her,  and  she  began  again. 

"  Uncle  Anthony  I  had  almost  decided  that  I 
would  not  go  to  theatres." 

"  The  mischief  you  had !  I  did  not  know  that 
you  had  had  an  opportunity.  Do  they  have 
theatres  in  your  town?" 

"  Oh,  travelling  ones  occasionally  ;  every  winter, 
indeed.  But  I  did  not  mean  those.  I  meant  that 
I  would  not  go  even  though  I  had  an  opportunity 
to  come  to  New  York,  for  instance,  though  I 
never  expected  to  come  here." 

"  And  am  I  to  be  informed  why  this  tremendous 
decision  was  reached?  Don't  your  tastes  lie  in 
that  direction  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  do.  I  should  not  be  sur 
prised  if  they  lay  very  much,  in  that  direction ; 
though  I  have  never  had  opportunity  to  decide 
for  myself.  But  I  like  anything  in  the  line  of 
acting.  When  we  girls  used  to  have,  at  school,  and 
in  our  societies,  what  we  called  private  theatricals, 
I  became  so  fond  of  them  that  while  we  were  pre 
paring  for  an  entertainment,  I  could  hardly  think 
of  anything  else.  But  the  reason  I  had  almost 
decided  that  I  would  not  go,  was  because — well — I 
am  a  member  of  the  church,  you  know." 


"  M'llAT  NEXT?"  75 

"  No,  I  was  not  aware  of  it ;  but  what  has  that 
to  do  with  the  matter  ?  So  is  your  sister  Estelle,  I 
believe." 

"  Yes,  but  she  and  Fannie  have  been  members  of 
the  church  for  a  number  of  years ;  and  I  only 
united  last  winter." 

"Ah,  am  I  to  understand  that  one  has  to  re 
main  away  from  theatres  and  places  of  that  sort 
for  a  term  of  years  after  uniting  .with  the  church ; 
and  then  are  at  liberty  to  begin  again  ?  " 

Glyde  laughed  pleasantly.  "  Oh,  Uncle  An 
thony  !  of  course  not.  I'm  sure  I  don't  know  how 
to  tell  you  what  I  mean.  I  am  not  like  Estelle 
and  Fanny.  I  mean  I  don't  think  as  they  do  about 
some  things.  I  know  they  are  older,  but  then " 

She  stopped  in  evident  embarrassment.  She  rec- 
cognized  the  apparent  egotism  in  that  last  sen 
tence,  and  did  not  seem  to  know  how  to  make  her 
position  clear. 

But  Uncle  Anthony  only  looked  at  her  with  his 
keen  gray  eyes,  and  waited.  So  she  began  again. 
"  Uncle  Anthony,  when  people  unite  with  the 
church,  they  promise,  you  know,  to  walk  in  love, 
with  that  particular  church,  and  be  guided  by  its 
advice.  At  least  the  covenant  of  our  church  has 
some  such  sentences.  Not  guided  contrary  to  their 
own  consciences,  of  course  ;  but,  I  mean,  they  prom 
ise  to  consider  carefully  what  that  church  thinks, 
and  agree  with  it  if  they  can.  Now,  I  know  that 
Dr.  Ford,  our  pastor,  doesn't  attend  theatres  and 
doesn't  approve  of  them  ;  neither  do  certain  other 


76  MAKING  FATE. 

members  of  our  church ;  some  who  are  reckoned 
among  the  wisest  and  best  people  we  have.  I 
thought  there  must  be  good  reasons  for  their  posi 
tion.  They  all  have  young  people  in  their  families, 
who  join  heartily  in  other  pleasures.  Once,  last 
winter,  I  was  invited  to  attend  a  theatre ;  it  was  a 
very  good  play,  they  said,  and  a  great  many  of  our 
young  people  went.  I  declined  the  invitation, 
because  I  thought  I  had  promised  to  be  guided 
by  the  views  of  the  church  in  such  matters,  and 
that  the  pastor  represented  the  church.  Estelle 
and  Fanny  did  not  agree  with  me,  they  laughed  at 
me  indeed.  Estelle  said  it  showed  that  I  had  a 
very  weak  nature,  or  that  I  was  making  a  mere 
puppet  of  myself,  not  claiming  to  have  any  views  of 
my  own.  And  when  I  came  to  think  about  it  care 
fully  I  found  it  true  enough  that  I  had  no  partic 
ular  views  on  the  subject  because  I  knew  very  little 
about  it.  I  didn't  feel  quite  as  Estelle  did,  about 
talking  advice ;  because  what  is  the  use  of  giving 
advice  if  people  are  never  to  take  it  ?  Still,  I  knew 
it  was  the  right  thing  to  have  settled  opinions  for 
one's  self ;  so  I  borrowed  a  book  about  theatres,  that 
I  had  seen  in  Dr.  Ford's  study,  and  read  it  carefully. 
And  really,  Uncle  Anthony,  if  the  half  that  that 
book  said  was  true,  I  shouldn't  think  any  self-re 
specting  people  would  frequent  the  theatre.  Why 
I  don't  mean  that,  of  course," — pausing  suddenly 
while  her  face  flushed  crimson  over  the  thought 
that  Uncle  Anthony  took  Estelle  to  the  theatre' 
every  evening  while  they  were  in  Syracuse,  "  but 


"  WHAT  NEXT?"  77 

I  mean  I  don't  understand  how  people  can   make 
a  business  of  going." 

"  Probably  the  book  was  written  by  some  fanatic 
who  had  never  been  inside  a  theatre  in  his  life," 
volunteered  Uncle  Anthony;  more,  it  must  be 
confessed,  for  the  purpose  of  seeing  what  this  new 
niece  would  say  next,  than  because  of  any  deep 
personal  interest  in  the  matter. 

"  Oh,  no,  it  wasn't ;  he  had  been  to  a  good  many 
of  them ;  and  had  studied  the  plays  most  carefully 
as  they  are  presented,  and  knew  a  great  deal  about 
them.  I  asked  Dr.  Ford  about  it  afterwards  ;  and 
he  said  that  every  one  who  had  given  attention 
to  the  matter  knew  that  the  statements  made 
in  that  book  could  not  be  contradicted.  He  said 
attempts  had  been  made  to  contradict  them  which 
had  proved  utter  failures.  After  that  I  read  several 
newspaper  and  magazine  articles  in  the  same  line. 
I  remember  it  seemed  to  me  as  though  items  about 
the  theatre  kept  falling  into  my  hands  without  my 
looking  for  them  ;  but  of  course  it  just  happened 
so." 

"  And  so  you  almost  decided  never  to  go  ?  "  her 
uncle  said,  looking  at  her  with  a  twinkle  in  his 
handsome  gray  eyes.  "  How  much  ground  is  that 
'  almost'  supposed  to  cover?  " 

"Why,  I  didn't  positively  say  that  I  would 
never  go.  Nobody  has  talked  with  me  about  it,  ex 
cept  Estelle  and  Fanny,  and  of  course  they  didn't 
care  how  I  decided  it.  I  have  never  been  invited 
to  go  but  just  twice  ;  so  I  haven't  had  much  tempta- 


78  MAKING  FATE. 

tion.  Estelle  said  she  would  risk  me  if  I  ever  got 
a  chance  to  go  to  a  real  city  theatre.  But  what  I 
decided  was,  that  unless  something  happened,  that 
is,  unless  I  read  some  books  or  had  a  talk  with 
people  whom  I  trusted,  who  could  assure  me  that 
much  which  had  been  said  in  that  book  and  other 
books  against  theatres  was  false,  why,  I  should  just 
not  go  t^o  them  ;  that  is  all." 

"  Don't  depend  upon  me  to  try  to  change  your 
views,"  her  uncle  said  dryly,  "  I  shall  not  under 
take  the  task." 

Glyde  laughed  a  slightly  embarrassed  laugh, 
and  began  again  in  a  deprecating  tone : 

"  Uncle  Anthony,  I  hope  I  have  not  made  you 
think  that  I  would  like  to  keep  you  away  from 
anything  which  you  wish  to  do.  Won't  you  please 
go  out  to-night  just  as  usual  ?  I  promise  you  I 
shall  not  be  in  the  least  homesick  or  lonely.  I 
must  finish  my  letter  to  mother;  and  then,  I  saw 
a  book  downstairs  which  T  am  sure  I  can  borrow. 
The  lady  who  was  there  this  afternoon  asked  me  if 
I  had  ever  read  it,  and  said  she  knew  I  would  like 
it.  Won't  you  please,  Uncle  Anthony,  act  just  as 
though  I  wasn't  here  ?  " 

Her  uncle  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"  Won't  I  please  go  off  to  the  theatre  by  myself 
and  leave  the  little  girl  I  brought  along  to  amuse 
me,  to  play  alone,  eh?  Not  if  I  am  acquainted 
with  myself !  My  child,  you  need  have  no  com 
punctions  of  conscience  over  me ;  the  theatres 
which  I  have  attended  during  the  last  seven  years 


"  WHAT  NEXT?"  79 

have  been  perfect  bores  to  me.  I  have  gone  chiefly 
to  please  some  niece,  or  cousin,  or  young  friend 
whom  I  had  in  charge.  I  shall  be  entirely  willing 
to  take  up  some  new  role.  What  shall  it  be,  a 
prayer-meeting  ?  " 

He  was  teasing  her ;  she  saw  the  fun  in  his  eyes ; 
but  she  laughed  merrity.  It  was  winsome  teasing, 
with  nothing  bitter  about  it.  She  rather  enjoyed 
it. 

Following  the  laugh,  she  said :  "  You  are  mak 
ing  fun  of  me,  Uncle  Anthony,  I  know  that ;  but 
to  be  real  honest,  I  have  thought  that  some  time  I 
should  like  to  go  to  a  very  large  city  prayer-meet 
ing,  such  as  I  suppose  they  must  have  in  these 
great  churches  in  New  York.  I  have  read  of 
prayer-meetings  which  it  seemed  to  me  it  must  be 
a  perfect  delight  to  attend.  I  don't  mean  to-night, 
of  course ;  and  indeed  I  don't  mean  to  insist  on 
you  taking  me  at  any  time.  I  am  ready  to  go 
wherever  you  would  like  to  go  ;  or  to  stay  at  home 
with  you  and  let  you  rest.  I  truly  haven't  any 
pet  schemes  which  must  be  carried  out.  I  believe 
you  think  I  am  a  little  bit  of  a  girl,  who  must 
have  the  particular  toy  that  I  want  to  play  with, 
or  I  shall  go  off  in  a  corner  and  pout." 

"  No,"  he  said  emphatically,  "  on  my  word  I 
don't.  I  haven't  seen  a  pouting  streak  in  your 
make-up.  A  prayer-meeting,  eh  ?  That's  entirely 
out  of  my  line  ;  never  in  all  my  experiences  with 
nieces  have  I  been  called  upon  to  produce  one 
before ;  but  we  ought  to  be  able  to  find  one  within 


80  MAKING  FATE. 

reaching  distance,  I  should  think.  If  I  mistake 
not  this  is  the  regulation  night  in  this  city,  for 
entertainments  of  that  character  ;  I  have  run  across 
one,  once  or  twice  in  a  business  way,  I  remember. 
We'll  sally  out  and  see  what  we  can  do." 

As  Glyde  settled  her  pretty  hat  before  the  mirror 
and  slipped  her  arms  dextrously  into  her  sister's 
sack  and  hunted  eagerly  for  the  pair  of  gloves 
which  suited  her  best  for  evening  wear,  her  uncle 
watched  her  with  a  curious  mixture  on  his  face  of 
amusement  and  tenderness.  A  close  observer 
would  have  been  sure  to  have  noted  the  touch  of 
sadness  also.  Some  sweet  past  memory  had  been 
awakened  and  was  tugging  at  his  heart.  Had  he 
spoken  the  words  which  floated  through  his  mind 
they  would  have  been  something  after  this  fash 
ion: 

"  So  this  is  a  new  type  of  niece  altogether ! 
Takes  me  back  eight,  nine,  how  many  years  ?  She 
is  like  her  Aunt  Estelle.  Queer  that  the  other  one 
should  look  like  her,  and  this  one  be  like  her !  I 
thought  the  type  had  gone  out  of  style.  My  little 
girl  had  very  much  the  same  notions  about  theatres, 
I  remember,  with  neither  pastor,  nor  books,  to 
help  her  to  her  conclusions.  She  did  not  like 
some  of  the  things  she  saw  there,  and  so  would 
have  none  of  them.  She  was  a  positive  little 
woman,  yet  with  gentle  ways  about  her  positive- 
ness,  much  as  this  one  has.  I  have  not  seen  any 
thing  of  the  kind  since." 

The  soliloquy  closed  with  a  sigh ;  but  it  was 


"  WHAT  NEXTf"  81 

not  so  heavy  as  the  lonely  man's  sighs  were  apt  to 
be  when  his  thoughts  strayed  into  his  precious 
past ;  he  was  conscious  of  a  ne\y  interest  in  life. 
Up  to  this  time  he  had  petted  Estelle  because  she 
bore  the  charmed  name,  and  finding  her  totally 
different  from  his  original,  had  told  himself  that 
he  must  expect  nothing  else  ;  there  were  no  girls 
in  these  days  like  his  Estelle.  He  thought  of  her 
as  though  she  had  been  gone  from  the  earth  for 
generations,  as  indeed  it  sometimes  seemed  to  him 
that  she  had.  But  here  was  a  revelation.  Behold 
his  niece,  Glyde,  whom  he  had  hitherto  noticed  at 
all,  simply  because  she  was  his  favorite  sister's 
daughter,  and  with  whom  he  had  not  exchanged  a 
dozen  words  connectedly  since  she  emerged  from 
childhood  ;  now  she  was  blossoming  before  him  into 
something  like  his  ideal  young  womanhood.  At 
least  she  strongly  suggested  it,  and  it  would  be 
worth  studying,  to  see  how  much  they  really  were 
alike.  He  had  discovered  her  by  a  happy  accident. 
Whatever  it  was  which  had  detained  the  nutting 
party — he  hoped  of  course  that  nothing  unpleasant 
had  happened, — but  he  owed  them  all  a  vote  of 
thanks  for  having  discovered  to  him  this  particular 
niece,  whom  he  would  take  care  not  to  lose  again. 
6 


82  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

"  THE  YOUNG  MAN   HAS   COME." 

"  So  you  have  on  your  sister's  sack  ? "  he 
said,  as  Glyde  turned  presently  from  the  mirror, 
and,  daintily  gloved,  announced  herself  quite 
ready.  Her  face  flushed  crimson  under  his  ques 
tion  and  his  critical  survey. 

"  Oh.  Uncle  Anthony ! "  she  said  pitifully, 
"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Why  the  transom  was  open,  you  remember, 
and  I  heard  things  unlawful  for  a  guest  to  hear  ; 
never  mind;  you  did  not  say  anything  that  I  shall 
not  forgive.  How  does  the  sack  fit?  " 

"  Perfectly.  Estelle  and  I  have  the  same  figure, 
though  I  am  a  trifle  taller  than  she.  Doesn't  it 
look  well  on  me  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  anything  to  find  fault  with.  What 
does  Estelle  wear  in  the  meantime  ?  " 

"  That  is  what  troubles  me  a  little  ;  or  would  if 
I  were  not  so  selfish  that  I  cannot  remember  to  be 
troubled  about  anything  just  now ;  she  wears  mine, 
I  suppose,  and  she  doesn't  like  it.  Mine  is  really 
rather  shabby ;  and  I  am  truly  ashamed  of  having 
taken  hers  without  asking  for  it." 


MAKING  FATE.  83 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  wear  when  you  get 
home  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  can  wear  the  old  sack  there  well  enough, 
but  it  was  too  shabby  for  New  York.  I  don't  go 
out  a  great  deal ;  you  know  I  am  the  third  one, 
and  that  does  make  a  difference.  I  am  afraid  you 
do  not  like  the  sack  after  all.  Don't  I  look  all 
right  in  it  ?  "  With  a  little  anxious  survey  of  her 
self  as  she  noticed  the  shade  of  gravity  on  her 
uncle's  face. 

"  You  look  remarkably  well,  I  should  say.  How 
does  it  happen  that  there  is  such  a  striking  differ 
ence  between  her  winter  rig  and  yours  ?  " 

"  Why  it  was  her  turn  this  winter.  We  have  to 
take  turn  about ;  there  are  so  many  of  us,  you 
know,  and  father  is  sick.  I  don't  mind  ;  being  the 
youngest,  of  course  it  doesn't  make  so  much  differ 
ence." 

"  I  see ;  but  Estelle  is  not  the  oldest  of  you  girls  ?  " 

"  No," — slowly,  and  with  a  little  perplexity  of 
tone  and  manner.  "  Fanny  is  the  oldest ;  but  then 
Estelle  is  " — she  stopped  to  laugh,  and  went  on 
merrily — "she  is  the  unfortunate  one,  perhaps. 
Her  clothes  are  always  growing  shabby  before 
Fanny's  and  mine.  She  dashes  about  a  good  deal, 
and  is  harder  on  her  clothes.  Perhaps  you  don't 
know  what  a  difference  there  is  in  girls  in  that 
respect,  but  mother  realizes  it,  I  am  sure.  Poor 
mother  is  kept  busy  day  and  night  trying  to  plan 
for  us  all.  I  think  Estelle  cares  more  about  things 
than  Fanny  does,  perhaps." 


84  MAKING  FATE. 

She  seemed  trying  to  explain  satisfactorily  to 
herself  the  evident  difference  which  had  to  be 
made  between  the  two  elder  sisters. 

Her  uncle  followed  her  downstairs  with  the 
shade  of  gravity  still  on  his  face.  He  was  think 
ing  of  the  burdened  life  of  his  favorite  sister. 
Somehow,  he  had  learned  more  about  the  circum 
stances  of  the  family  in  his  few  short  conversa 
tions  with  Glyde  than  all  his  trips  over  the  country 
with  Estelle  had  evolved.  Estelle  had  seemed 
to  be  absorbed  with  herself. 

"  She  belongs  to  another  world,"  he  said  once 
more,  thinking  of  Glyde.  "  To  the  world  of 
prayer-meetings  and  all  the  things  which  match." 

They  went  out  among  the  moving  throngs  on 
the  street.  They  took  the  "  L  "  road,  which  was 
a  never  failing  source  of  pleasure  to  Glyde.  She 
liked  to  whirl  along  over  the  tops  of  tall  buildings 
and  watch  for  the  new  and  curious  sights  which 
such  elevations  afforded  her.  They  left  the  car  at 
Forty-second  Street  and  walked  briskly,  down 
several  blocks,  reaching  at  last  a  massive  stone 
pile  whose  spire  pointed  heavenward.  Several 
people  were  passing  into  the  building  by  a  side 
entrance,  and  they  followed,  reaching  presently  an 
audience  room  larger  and  finer  than  Glyde  had 
ever  seen  before.  The  great  doors  seemed  to  be 
hung  in  air,  so  silently  without  visible  help  did 
they  appear  to  open  and  close.  The  carpet  gave 
back  no  answering  sound  to  any  footfalls  ;  the 
lights  which  flooded  the  room  came  from  hundreds 


MAKING  FATE.  85 

of  lily  bells  which  drooped  their  graceful  lidads 
for  that  purpose.  An  upright  piano  occupied  a 
central  position  near  the  desk,  and  at  the  !<}it  was 
a  handsome  pipe-organ  which  was  giving  forth 
sounds  of  exquisite  harmony  as  they  moved  down 
the  aisle.  The  seats  were  perhaps  half  filled  with 
men  and  women,  chiefly  women.  No  ushers  were 
in  attendance,  and  Glyde  and  her  uncle  helped 
themselves  to  seats,  as  seemed  to  be  the  fashion  of 
the  place.  A  hymn-book  lay  unused  near  them, 
and  Glyde  essayed  to  find  the  hymn  which  was 
being  sung,  but  failed  ;  it  apparently  occurred  to 
no  one  to  assist  her.  Following  the  hymn,  the 
pastor  called  upon  some  one  to  pray  ;  and  a  prayer 
followed  remarkable  to  Glyde,  for  two  things — long 
and  involved  sentences  and  large  words  ;  it  also 
grew  to  be  remarkable  for  its  continuance. 

She  thought  the  petitioner  must  be  deeply  in 
terested  in  every  nation  and  question  under  the 
sun,  for  he  seemed  to  her  to  omit  nothing  in  all 
the  wide  range  of  human  interest,  save  the  people 
who  were  present  with  him  in  the  place  of  prayer. 
Poor  Glyde  assured  herself  that  it  was  undoubt 
edly  a  beautiful  prayer  ;  and  she  was  deeply 
mortified  because  she  could  not  keep  her  thoughts 
in  line  with  it.  Despite  every  effort  to  the  con 
trary,  they  would  go  back  to  the  groups  of  peo 
ple  she  had  watched  that  day,  and  to  her  uncle 
Anthony's  remark  concerning  them.  Was  New 
York  different  from  other  places,  or  could  the 
world  be  almost  divided  into  two  classes  of  people — • 


86  MAKING  FATE. 

those  who  did  what  they  ought  not,  and  those  who 
could  not  do  as  they  would  ;  with  only  a  very 
few  sprinkled  in  between  who  made  life  a  success  ? 
This  girl  of  nineteen  wanted  all  lives  to  be  suc 
cessful  ;  she  not  only  mourned  but  felt  a  restless 
sense  of  injury  in  the  thought  that  it  was  not  so. 
Why  had  Fate  arranged  that  such  a  multitude 
of  people  should  be  disappointed  ?  She  said 
"  Fate  "  from  motives  of  respect,  and  felt  that  she 
was  reverent  in  doing  so.  She  would  not  have 
called  God  in  question,  but  that  mysterious  crea 
ture  named  Fate,  she  was  willing  to  arraign.  She 
wondered  if  Uncle  Anthony  liked  to  talk  about 
such  matters,  and  what  shrewd  remarks  he  would 
make  concerning  them  ;  and  then  she  brought 
herself  back  sharply  to  the  thought  of  prayer,  to 
find  that  it  was  at  last  concluded. 

There  followed  what  Uncle  Anthony  called  an 
address  from  the  man,  who  was  presumably  the 
pastor.  He  read  a  few  verses  from  the  Bible,  but 
the  address  did  not  immediately  follow  the  read 
ing,  and  the  two  seemed  to  have  no  connection. 
He  had  much  to  say  about  medieval  Europe,  which 
topic  it  must  be  confessed  had  no  interest  what 
ever  for  Glyde.  She  was  bitterly  disappointed, 
and  during  the  progress  of  the  address  t could  not 
keep  her  eyes  from  turning  in  the  direction  of  the 
great  clock  which  ticked  solemnly  from  a  conspicu 
ous  pedestal.  Once  she  caught  her  uncle's  eye, 
but  it  was  so  full  of  fun  that  she  was  afraid  to 
look  in  his  direction  again,  lest  she  might  laugh. 


MAKING  FATE.  87 

On  the  whole,  Glyde's  first  prayer-meeting  in 
New  York,  could  not  in  any  sense  of  the  word  be 
called  a  success.  She  tried  to  join  in  her  uncle's 
bits  of  merriment  at  her  expense,  but  at  her 
heart  was  a  sore  troubled  feeling.  She  was  a  young 
Christian,  and  her  experiences  thus  far  had  not 
been  rose-colored.  Was  it  strange  that  the  watch 
ful  enemy,  especially  of  all  young  creatures,  con 
trived  to  smuggle  in  the  questionings  as  to  whether 
the  high  hopes  she  had  indulged  about'  this  new 
life,  when  she  began  it.  were  a  delusion  ?  Did  it 
mean  a  mere  commonplace  plodding  along  the 
road?  Prayer-meetings  from  a  sense  of  duty, 
with  no  joy  in  them  ;  and  nothing  outward,  any 
where,  which  was  calculated  to  win  others — men 
like  her  uncle,  for  instance  ?  Glyde  admitted  to 
herself  that  "  the  girls "  seemed  to  be  satisfied 
witli  such  a  state  of  things.  Or  rather,  they 
seemed  to  her,  to  think  nothing  about  religious 
matters,  save  at  stated  times  ;  but  she  had  con 
fessed  to  Uncle  Anthony  that  she  was  not  like  her 
sisters,  and  she  felt  that  in  this,  as  in  other  mat 
ters,  it  was  true. 

After  the  prayer-meeting  they  went  sight  see 
ing.  Uncle  Antony  knew  just  where  to  lead  his 
novice  to  make  her  eyes  open  wide  with  wonder, 
and  her  whole  face  sparkle  with  delight.  But  he 
brought  the  shadows  to  it  again  by  saying,  as  he 
kissed  her  good-night, 

"  Well,  if  the  first  part  of  our  evening  was  a 
dismal  failure,  the  last  half  was  a  brilliant  success." 


88  MAKING  FATE. 

#  *  #  *  # 

In  the  great  law-office  of  Messrs.  Peel  and  Mc- 
Masters  business  was  pushing,  as  usual.  Short 
hand  reporters  .were  clicking  their  type-writers  at 
their  utmost  speed,  transcribing  their  notes  of  the 
previous  night ;  and  the  quieter  but  no  less  busy 
clerks  who  wrote  with  pens,  were  at  their  desks 
giving  undivided  attention  to  business. 

The  only  unoccupied  person  in  the  room  was  a 
young  man  with  alert  face  and  keen  eyes,  who  was 
evidently  taking  in  the  possibilities  of  the  place 
with  a  view  to,  or  hope  of,  the  possible  future.  In 
the  private  office,  the  senior  partner  of  the  firm, 
and  one  of  his  confidential  assistants,  were  in  close 
conversation,  when  a  knock  at  the  door  interrupted 
them. 

"  The  young  man  has  come,  sir,"  said  the  in 
truder  hurriedly,  speaking  as  one  who  knew  he 
must  save  all  the  time  possible.  "  You  gave  orders, 
you  remember,  that  you  were  to  be  told  when  he 
arrived.  Here  is  his  card,  and  a  letter  of  introduc 
tion  from " 

"What  young  man?"  interrupted  the  chief, 
"  Oh,  I  remember ;  we  telegraphed  him.  It  was 
unfortunate,  too,  now  that  this  unexpected  matter 
has  come  up  in  the  trial.  We  have  no  time  for 
minor  business  affairs  of  any  sort.  But  it  cannot 
well  be  helped  now,  I  suppose  ;  and  we  are  certainly 
in  need  of  more  help  in  the  office.  How  does  he 
appear,  Mr.  Albertson  ?  Does  he  want  to  stay  now, 
or  has  he  only  to  come  to  survey  the  land  ?  Set 


MAKING  FATE.  89 

him  to  work  if  you  can,  on  approval.  Tell  him 
I  will  see  him  later,  to-morrow  if  possible,  or  the 
next  day.  If  he  is  good  for  anything  he  can  work 
a  few  days  on  suspense.  Close  the  door  now,  and 
don't  let  us  be  interrupted  again." 

Thus  summarily  were  the  young  man's  interests 
disposed  of ;  and  he  had  waited  for  months  and 
planned  for  weeks  with  regard  to  this  hour.  As  he 
waited  now,  outside,  in  that  busy  office,  his  heart 
throbbed  unnaturally  in  alternate  throes  of  hope  and 
fear.  It  meant  so  much  to  him,  this  opportunity. 

Mr.  Albertson  tip-toed  back.  The  habit  of  his 
life  was  not  to  disturb  the  workers  in  that  office. 
He  carried  on  an  undertone  conversation  with  the 
stranger  ;  a  short  one  ;  he  had  learned  not  to  waste 
words. 

"  Mr.  Peel  cannot  see  you  to-day.  He  is  very 
sorry.  Mr.  McMasters  is  out  of  town — called  out 
unexpectedly.  However  that  will  make  no  dif 
ference  if  you  want  to  go  to  work.  We  are  in 
need  of  help,  and  my  orders  are  to  set  you  at  work 
if  you  are  willing.  On  approval,  you  understand. 
Of  course  we  cannot  say  that  it  will  last  for  twenty- 
four  hours." 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  ready  to  go  to  work  on  those 
terms,  "  the  stranger  said  quickly.  "  I  am  ready 
now."  He  looked  about,  apparently  for  a  place  to 
set  down  his  hat,  and  seemed  eager  to  commence 
at  once.  Mr.  Albertson  allowed  himself  to  smile. 
It  is  true  he  had  seen  eagerness  for  work  before, 
and  was  often  skeptical  as  to  the  length  of  time  it 


90  MAKING  FATE. 

would  last ;  but  something  about  this  young  man 
attracted  him.  And  the  eagerness  lasted.  All 
that  day,  and  the  next,  the  stranger  wrote  steadily 
on  whatever  was  given  him  to  do,  Mr.  Peel  still 
continuing  too  busy  to  talk  with  him.  A  novice 
he  was,  of  course,  needing  much  direction  and 
continual  oversight,  but  before  the  first  day  was 
over  Mr.  Albertson  knew  that  he  approved  of  the 
young  man. 

"•  You  will  have  more  chances  for  study,  of  course, 
if  you  remain  with  us,"  he  remarked  kindly  at  the 
close  of  the  first  day.  Things  are  more  than  usu 
ally  rushed  with  us  just  now,  on  account  of  un 
expected  developments  in  the  great  lawsuit  for 
which  they  are  getting  ready.  But  in  ordinary 
times  Mr.  Peel  will  often  give  you  a  few  minutes, 
and  Mr.  Me  Masters  is  very  kind  and  helpful  to  stu 
dents.  While  you  are  waiting  for  them,  if  there  is 
anything  I  can  show  you  about  books,  or  in  any 
line,  just  call  upon  me." 

This  was  a  great  deal  for  Mr.  Albertson  to  say, 
if  the  stranger  had  but  known  it  ;  it  evidenced  an 
unusual  liking  for  him  on  the  part  of  this  silent 
man,  who  was  yet  a  power  in  the  work-room. 
During  a  moment  of  leisure  on  the  following  day 
it  occurred  to  Mr.  Albertson  to  question  where 
the  new  man  was  stopping,  and  if  he  cared  to  look 
up  a  boarding-place,  or  would  prefer  to  wait  until 
his  affairs  were  more  settled.  Upon  being  in 
formed  that  the  young  man  was  stopping  with  his 
uncle,  and  could  continue  to  do  so,  in  the  event  of 


MAKING  FATE.  91 

a  permanent  engagement,  Mr.  Albertson  liked  him 
better  than  ever  ;  lawyers'  clerks  who  were  living 
in  boarding-houses,  among  strangers,  were  so  liable 
to  get  into  scrapes.  It  happened  that,  before  that 
second  day  had  quite  closed,  Mr.  Albertson  had 
occasion  to  spend  nearly  five  minutes  in  the  same 
room  with  his  chief.  He  watched  for  an  oppor 
tunity  when  that  busy  man  seemed  to  be  stopping 
for  a  moment  of  rest,  and  rushed  in  his  sentence : 
"  The  new  young  man  takes  hold  well,  sir  ;  we 
haven't  had  a  student  in  five  years  who  has  seemed 
so  thoroughly  in  earnest.  He  gives  his  attention 
so  fully  to  the  business  in  hand  that  he  makes  few 
mistakes ;  fewer  than  some  who  have  been  with 
us  for  months." 

"  Ah, — is  that  so  ?  "  came  from  Mr.  Peel  in  an 
absent-minded  tone. 

•'  Yes,  sir ;  and  between  times  he  studies  with 
all  his  might.  Knows  how  to  study,  too,  I  should 
say." 

"  Glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Peel.  "  I  hope  he 
will  make  a  success  of  it.  I  knew  his  father  years 
ago,  and  shall  be  willing  to  give  the  son  a  lift. 
But  of  course  we  must  go  slowly  in  such  a  matter. 
Don't  give  him  any  encouragement  as  to  perma 
nency,  Albertson.  Remember  we  can  afford  to 
have  only  a  certain  class  of  students  about  us.  To 
morrow,  or  the  next  day,  I  may  be  able  to  have  a 
talk  with  him." 

"  To-morrow  "  passed  without  the  opportunity 
found.     It  was  toward  the  close  of  business 


92  MAKING  FATE. 

hours  on  the  fourth  day  of  the  new  student's  ap 
pearance  that  another  young  man  entered  the  office  ; 
that  young  man  was  Ralph  Bramlett. 

To  account  for  this  extremely  tardy  arrival  it 
will  be  necessary  to  go  back  to  the  morning  on 
which  he  first  heard  of  the  opportunity  and  its 
probable  loss.  He  expressed  himself  freely  on  the 
subject,  and  his  sister  Hannah,  who  was  not  given 
to  sparing  words,  was  equally  outspoken. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  we  could  do  about  it  ? 
Two  women  here  alone  !  If  you  hadn't  stayed 
away  from  home  all  night,  like  a  silly  boy,  you 
would  have  been  here  in  time  to  have  attended  to 
your  own  business." 

This  was  too  true  to  be  palatable  ;  but  it  was 
also  too  true  to  contradict.  Ralph  was  moody 
and  miserable  during  what  was  left  of  the  morning, 
and  by  afternoon,  his  father  not  having  yet  returned, 
he  announced  his  intention  of  driving  to  a  town 
some  twelve  miles  distant  to  see  to  some  business 
which  would  have  to  be  attended  to  before  long. 

In  vain  his  mother  protested  ;  the  storm  was  in 
creasing  in  violence  ;  it  was  not  the  day  for  a 
long  drive  into  the  country.  Ralph  had  a  slight 
cold  now,  and  this  was  exactly  the  weather  cal 
culated  to  increase  it.  She  did  not  believe  that 
"  father  "  would  like  to  have  the  horses  exposed 
unnecessarily  to  the  storm.  There  was  no  haste 
about  that  matter,  it  could  wait  another  week  as 
well  as  not;  and  there  were  dozens  of  things  to 
be  done,  which  the  rain  need  not  hinder. 


MAKING  FATE.  93 

She  might  as  well  have  spared  her  breath ; 
Ralph  was  inexorable.  He  would  take  that  twelve 
miles  drive,  and  attend  to  that  particular  business 
on  that  very  day. 

"  We  have  had  enough  of  delays,  already,"  he 
said  savagely ;  and  he  looked  at  his  mother  and 
sister  as  though  he  considered  them  to  blame  for 
all  the  annoyances  which  had  resulted  from  the 
last  one. 


MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"POOR   RALPH." 

HE  had  his  way  and  took  his  twelve  miles' 
drive  ;  only  to  discover  that  the  man  he  had  gone 
to  see  was  miles  away  from  home  in  another  direc 
tion.  Thoroughly  soaked  and  thoroughly  miser 
able,  he  reached  home  somewhere  near  midnight 
and  went  supperless  to  bed,  declining  almost 
roughly  the  choice  dishes  which  mother  and  sister 
pressed  upon  him.  He  could  not  eat  a  morsel,  he 
declared  ;  he  had  a  headache,  and  wanted  to  be  let 
alone.  By  the  next  morning  it  was  apparent  that 
he  had  not  only  headache  but  fever ;  a  wretched 
cold  kept  him  an  unwilling  and  irritable  prisoner 
for  two  days. 

On  the  third,  common  sense  began  to  assert  it 
self  and  take  him  to  task  for  not  going  to  New  York 
as  soon  as  he  heard  of  the  call.  How  could  he  be 
sure  that  the  opportunity  was  lost,  even  though 
he  was  a  few  hours  behind  time  ?  The  more  he 
thought  about  it,  the  more  he  accused  himself  of 
folly ;  and  finally,  he  resolved  to  go  that  very  day 
and  learn  his  fate  in  person. 

"  You  can  explain  how  it  was  that  you  were  de- 


MAKING  FATE.  95 

tained,"  said  his  father.  "  That  is  if  you  have 
anything  to  explain.  At  least  you  can  state  that 
you  have  been  ill,  and  that  is  always  a  reasonable 
excuse.  I  do  not  suppose  that  it  will  be  abso 
lutely  necessary,  in  the  cause  of  truth,  to  add  that 
you  brought  the  illness  upon  yourself.  It  is  very 
unfortunate,  the  whole  of  it.  If  Mr.  Peel  is  in  the 
least  like  what  he  was  as  a  young  man  he  will  de 
mand  promptness  and  frankness  above  all  things. 
I  don't  understand  the  situation  very  well  myself ; 
I  thought  you  had  grown  up,  my  boy." 

All  this  was  very  irritating  to  Ralph  ;  he  was 
in  a  condition  to  be  irritated  easily.  He  had  driven 
to  town  that  afternoon  and  spent  an  hour  walk 
ing  about  aimlessly,  trying  to  decide  whether  he 
should  call  upon  Marjorie  after  the  old  fashion, 
as  if  he  had  run  in  for  a  moment's  chat  as  a  mat 
ter  of  course.  Before  he  had  determined  whether 
this  was  the  proper  thing  to  be  done,  it  was  set 
tled  while  he  was  still  half  a  block  away  from 
her  door  by  seeing  Marjorie  emerge  from  it  and 
walk  briskly  down  town.  He  crossed  the  street 
and  followed  at  such  good  speed  that  he  overtook 
her  just  as  she  was  entering  Melborne's  store. 

"  Good-afternoon,"  he  said  hurriedly,  the  im 
portance  of  being  in  haste  if  he  would  not  lose  her 
in  the  vortex  inside,  finally  settling  the  vexed  ques 
tion  for  him. 

She  turned  her  head,  much  as  she  might  have 
done  if  a  child  had  arrested  her  steps,  said  in  her 
quietest,  most  indifferent  tone,  "  Good-afternoon," 


96  MAKING  FATE. 

and  immediately  disappeared  among  the  crowds 
of  people  inside  the  store. 

When  before  had  Marjorie  Edmonds  responded 
thus  coldly  to  greeting  of  his  !  His  indignation 
returned  with  violence.  Very  well,  he  told  him 
self  angrily,  if  Marjorie  Edmonds  had  djecided  to 
break  with  him  merely  because  he  did  not  obey 
her  orders  like  a  child,  she  was  at  liberty  to  do  so. 
He  would  go  away  at  once,  to  New  York,  and  stay 
there,  if  he  possibly  could ;  forever,  perhaps  ;  at 
least,  k>ng  enough  for  her  to  bitterly  repent  her 
treatment  of  him.  So  it  was,  after  all,  this  experi 
ence  which  finally  sent  him  to  wait  in  the  office 
of  Messrs.  Peel  and  McMasters. 

"What  name  did  you  say,  sir?"  Mr.  Albertson 
had  asked  him,  moving  a  step  nearer  with  a  look 
of  surprise  and  bewilderment  on  his  face.  Now 
Ralph  was  still  in  the  mood  which  had  been 
evolved  by  all  the  exasperating  occurrences  of  the 
past  few  days,  and  could  not  be  expected  to  be 
courteous  to  one  whom  he  regarded  as  a  mere  clerk. 

"  Bramlett,"  he  said  irritably,  and  in  a  louder 
tone  than  was  generally  used  in  the  office.  "  It 
is  a  sufficiently  uncommon  name  to  be  remembered, 
I  should  think." 

"  And  you  are  expected,  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  am ;  I  have  had  letters  from  Mr. 
Peel,  and  finally  a  telegram."  He  omitted  to 
state  how  many  days  had  elapsed  since  the  telegram 
reached  him.  Mr.  Albertson's  step  was  slower 
than  usual,  and  there  was  a  look  of  undoubted 


MAKING  FATE.  97 

mystification  on  his  face  as  he  made  his  way  toward 
the  private  office,  and  waited  for  admittance. 

"  There  is  a  young  man,  sir,"  he  said  hesitat 
ingly,  when  he  finally  had  permission  to  speak, 
and  then  he  told  Ralph's  story. 

"  What  is  all  this  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Peel,  who  had 
been  writing  during  his  clerk's  opening  sentences  ; 
he  held  his  pen  in  the  air  now,  and  whirled  about 
on  his  chair  for  a  full  view  of  the  speaker's  face ; 
"  I  have  written  him,  does  he  say  ?  and  telegraphed 
him !  When,  pray  ?  What  does  it  all  mean  ? 
What  do  you  say  his  name  is  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  strange  part  of  it :  he  says  his  name 
is  Bramlett." 

"  Bramlett !  Why  I  thought  that  young  man  had 
been  at  work  in  our  office  for  four  or  five  days  and 
was  giving  satisfaction.  Isn't  that  his  name?  " 

"  I  certainly  understood  so  from  you.  He  sent 
in  his  card  if  you  remember.  I  did  not  so  much 
as  glance  at  it ;  nor  did  you.  But  you  told  me  he 
was  the  young  man  you  expected ;  and  I  knew 
that  that  young  man's  name  was  Bramlett.  You 
ordered  me  to  set  him  to  work." 

"  And  did  he  say  he'had  a  telegram  from  me?" 

"  No,  sir  ;  he  said  nothing  to  me  about  telegrams  ; 
it  was  you  who  told  me  you  had  telegraphed 
him." 

"  And  on  the  strength  of  that  you  set  him  to 

work  without    identifying   him   even   by   name ! 

I'm  afraid  you  would  not  succeed  as  a  lawyer,  Mr. 

Albertson.     I  supposed  of  course  it  was  Bramlett ; 

7 


98  MAKING  FATE. 

I  was  not  expecting  anybody  else ;  but  it  seems 
we  both  jumped  at  conclusions.  Well,  unravel 
the  mystery  in  any  way  you  think  best.  Are  they 
twins,  do  you  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  ;  I  shouldn't  say  that  they  were  ;  they 
look  and  act  very  unlike." 

"  And  you  like  the  first  one  and  don't  the 
second  ;  that  is  plain.  I'm  afraid  you  would  make 
a  prejudiced  juryman,  Mr.  Albertson.  Report 
whatever  results  you  reach  to  me  ;  I  haven't  time 
for  details." 

The  great  man  turned  again  in  his  chair,  as 
the  sentence  was  completed,  and  before  the  door 
closed  he  was  writing  again.  Mr.  Albertson  went 
back  toward  the  public  office  more  annoyed  than 
he  often  allowed  himself  to  become.  He  had  cer 
tainly  taken  to  the  new  clerk  in  a  way  that  was 
unusual  for  him.  If  he  should  now  discover  that 
it  was  all  a  mistake,  and  that  this  intruder  was  to 
have  the  choice  position  which  had  been  long 
watched  for  by  more  than  one,  the  gray-haired 
clerk's  heart  would  be  sad.  He  preferred  the  Mr. 
Bramlett  who  was  now  in  possession.  Even  his 
chiefs  rarely  spoke  to  him  tu  the  tone  that  the  in 
truding  Bramlett  had  used  that  morning. 

Instead  of  returning  at  once  to  the  main  room, 
he  turned  aside  to  a  small,  semi-private  office,  and 
summoning  a  call-boy  directed  that  the  young  man 
who  sat  at  desk  No.  2  be  sent  to  him. 

"  Am  I  mistaken,"  he  said,  "  in  supposing  your 
name  to  be  Bramlett  ?  " 


MAKING  FATE.  99 

Yes,  he  was.  The  new  clerk's  name  was  Bur- 
well;  Paul  Burwell. 

"  And  did  you  receive  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Peel 
the  evening  before  you  called  here  ?  " 

Oh  no,  indeed ;  he  had  never  heard  from  Mr. 
Peel  by  letter  or  telegram.  An  old  friend  of  his 
mother's,  Judge  Marshall  of  Kenicut,  had  learned 
incidentally  that  there  was  a  possible  opening  in 
this  office,  and  knowing  his  extreme  anxiety  to 
secure  such  an  opportunity  had  offered  him  a  letter 
of  introduction  to  Mr.  Peel,  which  Mr.  Burwell 
had  delivered  to  the  clerk  on  the  morning  of  his 
arrival,  and  had  been  promptly  set  at  work  tem 
porarily  in  the  office.  He  did  not  state  how  great 
had  been  his  surprise  and  delight  at  this  immediate 
result.  Matters  began  to  look  very  serious  so  far 
as  this  faithful  worker's  prospects  were  concerned  ; 
evidently  the  intruder  was  the  expected  Mr.  Bram- 
lett  who  had  received  letters  and  telegrams.  Mr. 
Albertson  was  intensely  mortified.  It  was  the 
first  time,  in  all  the  fourteen  years  of  his  service 
with  the  firm,  that  he  could  be  called  to  account 
for  carelessness.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
repair  to  his  chief  with  the  information  which  he 
had  gained.  The  unexpected  result  was  that  Mr. 
Peel  threw  down  his  pen  and  summoned  Ralph 
Bramlett  to  an  immediate  interview,  during  which 
that  young  man  was  subjected  to  a  running  fire  of 
cross-questions.  "  Where  was  he  when  the  tele 
gram  arrived  ?  "  "  What  hindered  him  from  mak- 


100  MAKING  FATE. 

ing  an  immediate  reply  either  in  person  or  by 
wire  ?  "  "  Was  he  too  ill  to  telegraph  ?  " 

Poor  Ralph,  unused  to  such  close  questioning, 
and  with  a  foolish  feeling  at  his  heart  that  he  had 
something  to  conceal,  blundered  and  stammered 
and  contradicted  himself  about  "  headache,"  and 
"  fever,"  and  "  thunderstorms  "  and  an  "  all-night 
absence,"  until  Mr.  Peel  regarded  him  with  sus 
picious  eyes  and  wondered  how  much  of  the  story 
was  fact,  and  how  much  he  was  composing  for  the 
occasion.  He  was  left  in  the  private  office  to  con 
sider  the  matter,  while  Mr.  Peel  himself  strode 
into  the  large  room  to  confer  with  the  incumbent 
of  desk  No.  2,  an  experience  so  unusual  as  to 
startle  all  the  clerks  in  the  office. 

The  final  result  was  as  poor  Ralph  might  have 
known.  A  young  man  three  or  four  days  behind 
time,  with  such  a  confused  and  contradictory  ac 
count  of  himself  to  give,  could  hardly  expect  con 
sideration  at  the  hands  of  such  business  men  as 
Messrs.  Peel  and  McMasters. 

Mr.  Peel  recounted  as  much  of  the  interview 
as  was  necessary  to  his  partner  afterwards,  and 
laughed  in  an  annoyed  way  as  he  said : 

"  So  it  has  come  to  pass  that  we,  who  are  supposed 
to  be  exasperatingly  particular  in  regard  to  those 
who  come  into  our  office  as  students,  and  who 
have  at  least  a  dozen  estimable  young  men  always 
watching  for  our  vacancies,  have  established  a  per 
fect  stranger,  who  was  not  even  heard  of  until  the 
morning  when  he  presented  himself  and  was  set 


MAKING  FATE.  101 

to  work !  Fate  must  have  had  a  hand  in  that 
affair." 

"  Perhaps  the  young  man  had  a  hand  in  making 
his  own  fate,"  observed  the  partner.  "  More  '  fate ' 
is  made  by  promptness  and  faithful  attention  to 
business  than  young  people  dream  of.  Where  has 
this  other  young  fellow  been  during  the  days  which 
intervened  between  the  telegram  and  his  appear 
ance?" 

"  He  doesn't  know  I  "  said  Mr.  Peel,  laughing  ; 
"  he  is  the  most  confused  person  you  ever  heard  of ; 
unless  I  am  more  confused  than  "he  by  his  story. 
There  was  a  storm,  and  a  ride  at  night,  and  a  head 
ache,  and  a  bad  cold  and  he  was  sick  in  bed  at  the 
same  time  that  he  was  taking  the  drive,  I  think  ! 
Anyhow,  matters  are  hopelessly  confused  in  both 
our  minds.  Albertson  takes  to  the  other  one  ; 
and  there  is  no  known  reason  for  displacing  him, 
when  we  offered  him  the  place  on  approval.  He 
has  given  entire  satisfaction,  so  far;  besides,  I 
have  looked  up  his  letter  of  introduction,  and  it 
expresses  a  great  deal  in  a  short  space,  and  comes 
from  a  high  source.  Oh,  he  is  probably  the  one  ; 
we'll  try  him  anyway.  I  should  like  to  have 
gratified  my  old  acquaintance,  Bramlett  ;  but  he 
couldn't  expect  busines.s  men  to  wait  four  days. 
Now,  Mr.  McMasters,  I  am  ready  for  business,  if 
you  are." 

When  Ralph  Bramlett  walked  slowly  away  from 
the  office  that  morning,  he  had  a  bitter  sense  of 
his  own  folly.  How  long  he  had  waited  for  this 


102  MAKING   FATE. 

golden  opportunity  !  An  assured  position  in  the 
office  of  Peel  and  McMaster  was  almost  as  good  as 
being  a  lawyer  one's  self ;  it  opened  the  way,  as  no 
other  office  did,  for  steady  advancement  and  final 
success.  And  he  had  felt  so  sure  of  the  position 
so  soon  as  it  opened  !  Mr.  Peel's  letters  had  been 
most  kind ;  he  had  remembered  his  father  pleas 
antly  ;  he  had  promised  his  personal  attention  to 
the  matter,  and  had  given  it.  And  he,  Ralph,  had 
thrown  it  away  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  the  pass 
ing  sarcasms  of  Estelle  Douglass  !  He  hated  her 
when  he  thought  of  it.  Even  after  that  he  need 
not  have  been  a  fool.  Why  had  he  not  taken  the 
first  train  for  New  York  that  next  morning  and 
explained  in  a  manly  way  that  he  had  been  absent 
from  home,  and  came  by  the  first  train  after  receiv 
ing  his  call?  Then  he  would  have  been  in  time. 
He  knew  that  he  had  not  done  so,  simply  be 
cause  he  had  given  way  to  a  feeling  of  being  ill- 
used  ;  to  a  notion  that  fate  was  against  him,  and 
that  there  was  no  use  in  his  trying  to  be  anybody 
but  a  plodding  farmer  ;  which  was  his  way  of 
referring  to  that  manly  employment,  when  he  was 
in  the  depths.  Nay,  even  after  all  the  delays,  why 
had  he  told  such  a  confused,  school-boy  story  to  the 
great  lawyer?  What  did  he  care  about  storms 
and  picnics  and  colds  ?  Had  he  simply  said  that 
he  had  been  absent  from  home  when  the  telegram 
arrived,  and  later,  had  been  too  ill  to  give  attention 
to  business,  he  would  at  least  have  preserved  his 
self-respect.  On  the  whole,  the  young  man  had  a 


MAKING  FATE.  103 

wholesome  feeling  of  self-dissatisfaction  ;  he  was 
even  willing,  for  the  moment,  to  admit  that  he  had 
been  to  blame  for  all  his  trials  ;  that  Marjorie 
Edmonds  was  justified  in  feeling  hurt  and  of 
fended. 

He  walked  the  length  of  an  entire  block  con 
sidering  the  matter  in  this  light.  He  felt  an  almost  ir 
resistible  desire  to  have  Marjorie's  sympathy  at  that 
moment.  He  felt  quite  certain  that  she  would  have 
sympathy  to  give.  If  he  could  call  upon  her  now, 
within  the  next  hour  and  say,  first  :  "  Marjorie,  I 
Avant  to  tell  }rou  that  I  acted  like  an  idiot  and  a 
bear  the  other  night.  I  don't  know  what  pos 
sessed  me  ;  or — that  is  not  true,  I  do  ;  I  wanted 
to  save  you  and  myself  from  the  merciless  ridicule 
of  Estelle  Douglass  and  so  allowed  her  to  per 
suade  me  against  my  better  judgment.  I  want 
you  to  forgive  me  ;  if  I  had  known  how  much 
your  heart  was  set  upon  being  at  home  that  night. 
I  would  not  have  disappointed  you  for  a  thousand 
Douglass  girls." 

And  then,  "  Oh,  Marjorie,  I  have  failed  in  the 
desire  of  my  heart.  For  three  years  I  have  been 
hoping  to  get  in  at  the  great  law  firm  of  Peel  and 
McMasters,  and  only  that  night,  that  fateful  night, 
they  telegraphed  me  and  I  was  not  there  to  receive 
it,  and  I  have  lost  my  opportunity."  How  certain 
he  was  that  she  would  speak  gentle,  encouraging 
words,  such  as  no  other  could.  "  Never  mind, 
Ralph,"  he  could  seem  to  hear  her  voice, — "  you 
know  of  course  that  I  am  sorry  ;  ever  so  sorry, 


104  MAKING 

but  there  will  be  another  opportunity  soon 
Messrs.  Peel  and  McMasters  are  not  the  only 
lawyers  in  the  world  ,  and  even  they  may  have  an 
unexpected  vacancy  very  soon  ;  don't  give  up 
heart  ,  make  up  your  mind  that  you  will  have  the 
place  you  believe  you  are  fitted  for,  and  then  watch 
for  it."  Some  such  Avords  as  those,  he  \vould  be 
certain  to  hear  from  her  lips.  He  longed  for  them  ; 
lie  believed  he  would  go  home  and  carry  out  his 
part  of  the  programme  so  as  to  ensure  hers.  He 
took  out  his  time-table  and  studied  it.  In  two 
hours  there  would  be  a  return  train.  Should  he 
take  it  ?  He  had  met  Estelle  Douglass  in  the 
street  the  evening  before  and  told  her  he  was  go 
ing  to  New  York  to  spend  the  winter.  If  he  re 
turned  the  very  next  day  how  strange  it  would 
look  to  her.  How  many  absurd  things  she  could 
sa}-  because  of  it.  His  face  flushed  over  the  thought 
of  her  ridicule.  Wh}^  had  he  told  her  he  was  go 
ing  to  spend  the  winter !  Still,  he  need  not  rush 
home  like  a  homesick  child.  Why  not  stay  and 
see  a  little  of  the  city,  now  that  he  was  here  ? 
No,  he  must  get  home  ;  he  could  ill  afford  the 
money  that  it  would  cost  to  stay.  He  would  wait 
simply  for  the  midnight  train.  That  Avould  bring 
him  home  in  the  morning  in  time  for  the  day's 
duties.  The  next  question  was,  how  should  he 
spend  the  intervening  time.  There  was  sight 
seeing  enough  for  the  hours  of  daylight,  but  there 
was  the  evening. 

When  evening  had  fullvcome,  he  was  still  con- 


MAKING  FATE.  105 

sideling  the  question  while  he  walked  the  street. 
He  passed  a  large,  plain  building  which  did  not  look 
like  a  church ;  but  they  were  singing^  inside,  a  hymn 
which  Marjorie  sang  once,  in  the  choir  at  home. 
He  paused  and  was  on  the  eve  of  entering  the  door  ; 
he  wanted  to  hear  more  of  that  hymn.  But  he 
turned  on  his  heel  with  a  half-contemptuous  smile. 
What  an  idea,  to  spend  the  only  evening  he  had  for 
New  York  in  a  prayer-meeting  !  How  would  that 
sound,  repeated  ?  He  went  instead,  to  a  theatre. 
The  play  was  neither  of  the  best  nor  the  worst  ; 
perhaps  the  utmost  that  could  have  been  briefly 
said  of  it  was  that  it  was  weak.  The  hero  was  an 
ill-used  man,  a  victim  of  "  fate  "  which  pursued 
him  relentlessly  even  to  the  bitter  end.  Ralph 
Bramlett  followed  him  breathlessly  to  that  end  ; 
then  came  away  moody  and  miserable.  He 
listened  in  vain  for  the  sound  of  Marjorie's  voice 
in  encouragement  ;  something  had  hushed  it. 
He  told  himself  once  more,  that  there  was  no  use 
in  his  trying. 

In  that  wretched  young  man  who  tried  and 
failed,  he  saw  himself  ;  fate  was  against  him ; 
even  Marjorie,  his  friend  from  childhood,  had  turn 
ed  coldly  away,  offended  over  a  trifle.  She  might 
stay  offended  then  ;  he  should  not  apologize. 
What  was  there  for  him  to  apologize  about  ?  It 
was  she  who  had  given  them  a  wretched  fright 
and  put  everything  awry  for  the  next  day.  Poor 
Ralph  !  The  being  he  called  Fate  had  gotten  pos 
session  of  him  again. 


106  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  MARKED   DAY. 

YEARS  afterwards,  whenever  Glyde  Douglass 
wanted  to  refer  to  an  especially  happy  period  in 
her  life,  she  was  sure  to  go  back  to  New  York  and 
spend  over  again  those  days  with  Uncle  Anthony. 
Especially  to  that  lovely  Friday  which  followed 
the  attempt  to  find  a  praypr-meeting.  Uncle 
Anthony  gave  up  almost  the  entire  day  to  his 
niece.  In  the  morning  they  went  shopping.  The 
conversation  which  was  held  just  before  they 
started,  is,  perhaps,  worthy  of  record.  Glyde  had 
confided  to  her  uncle  the  existence  of  the  two- 
dollar  bill  and  the  important  part  which  it  was  to 
play  in  her  affairs. 

He  was  the  most  sympathetic  of  confidantes. 
"  All  right,"  he  said,  his  gray  eyes  twinkling 
with  pleasure,  "  we'll  attend  to  that  the  first 
thing.  What  have  you  thought  of  ?  ' 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  Glyde  explained.  "  Or  rather, 
a  hundred  things.  Still,  I  think  I  have  very  nearly 
settled  upon  some  of  them.  I  must  have  some 
thing  silk  for  mother  ;  I  suppose  it  will  have  to  be 
a  handkerchief." 


A  MARKED  DAY.  107 

"  Does  she  particularly  dote  on  silk  handker 
chiefs  ? 

"  I  don't  think  she  has  any.  I  mean  a  soft  white 
one  that  she  can  knot  up  and  wear  at  her  throat 
when  she  is  dressed.  You  don't  know  how  it 
could  be  done,  Uncle  Anthony,  but  I  do  ;  she 
would  look  pretty  in  it.  And  for  father.  I  think  I 
shall  get  some  new  neckties  ;  I  know  the  kind 
he  likes,  and  I  heard  mother  tell  him  that  his 
were  getting  shabby.  I  think  I  can  get  two  ;  but 
perhaps  not.  I  don't  suppose  you  know  what 
those  neat  little  black  ones  cost,  do  you  ?  They 
are  not  in  the  least  like  the  ones  you  Vear  ?  " 

"  That  means,  I  suppose,  that  mine  are  not  neat  ! 
Never  mind,  I  can  ,stand  it.  No,  I  don't  know 
what  they  cost,  but  there  is  probably  somebody  in 
town  who  does.  Go  on  ;  what  next  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  girls  are  the  hardest  ;  not  because 
there  are  so  few  things  to  get  them,  but  so  many. 
Yesterday  when  we  were  going  down  town  we 
passed  a  jewelry  store  ;  it  looked  large  and  hand 
some,  the  windows  were  brilliantly  lighted ;  and 
there  were  some  tiny  pins  displayed  ;  wee  bits  of 
pins,  clover  leaves,  you  know,  and  violets,  and 
mignonette.  They  were  marked  only  thirty-five 
cents.  Could  they  possibly  have  been  good  for 
anything  at  that  price  ?  " 

"  Good  for  bits  of  glass  and  bright-colored 
paper,"  said  Uncle  Anthony.  Glyde  laughed 
cheerfully. 

"  I  was   afraid,  so  "  she  said.     "  Then  I  am  un- 


108  MAKING  FATE. 

decided  in  regard  to  the  girls.  I  thought  if  thirty- 
five  cents  could  buy  anything  of  that  sort  which 
Estelle  and  Fanny  could  wear,  I  should  like  to 
get  them,  for  it  happens  that  both  of  them  have 
broken  their  pins." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Uncle  Anthony,  "  we  might 
look  them  up  and  see  ;  perhaps  they  would  do  for 
everyday  wear.  Seems  to  me  you  are  very 
modest  in  your  wishes  ;  silk  handkerchiefs  and 
even  neat  neckties  are  small  affairs  to  represent 
your  first  visit  to  New  York,  are  they  not?  " 

"  Well,  but  I  have  to  be  modest,"  laughed  Glyde. 
"  Didn't  I  tefl  you  what  my  resources  were  ?  " 

"  I  see  ;  but  give  free  rein  to  your  imagination, 
can't  you,  for  the  fun  of  the  thing  ?  Suppose  you 
had, — well,  for  purposes  of  illustration,  we  will 
say  a  hundred  dollars  to  spend  this  morning  ? 
I'll  venture  a  neat  necktie  that  you  would  waste 
the  entire  morning  tossing  over  things  and 
wouldn't  have  the  least  idea  how  to  spend  them." 

"  Wouldn't  I  ?  "  with  a  little  emphatic  nod  of 
her  head  which  was  very  becoming  to  Glyde.  "  I'd 
know  just  exactly  how  to  spend  them.  I've  spent 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  dollars  in  that  way, 
Uncle  Anthony,  and  I'm  thoroughly  posted." 

"  All  right ;  go  ahead ;  let  me  hear  you  think 
aloud.  I  never  saw  a  girl  who  could  spend  a 
hundred  dollars  quickly  and  sensibly.  What 
would  you  get  for  that  mother  of  yours,  for  instance, 
besides  the  silk  handkerchief  ?  " 


A  MARKED  DAY.  109 

"  I  should  get  her  a  silk  dress  ;  a  beautiful  black 
silk  dress ;  just  such  an  one  as  she  ought  to  wear 
to  church  and  everywhere.  I  don't  suppose  you 
half  understand  mothers,  Uncle  Anthony,  yours 
died  when  you  were  such  a  little  boy  ;  but  you 
see  they  have  a  way  of  giving  everything  up  to 
their  daughters,  and  sons  too,  I  suppose,  and  going 
without,  themselves.  When  I  was  a  little  girl, 
mother  used  to  have  a  black  silk  dress  which  she 
wore  to  church  almost  every  Sunday ;  I  can  re 
member  drawing  my  hand  over  it  to  feel  how 
soft  it  was  ;  and  I  know  just  how  mother  looked 
in  it.  But  she  hasn't  worn  a  silk  dress  for, — it 
must  be  five  years ;  she  cut  that  one  over  for 
Estelle  that  time  when  she  went  to  Syracuse  with 
you,  you  remember,  and  she  has  never  had  another. 
You  see  there  are  so  many  grown-up  daughters 
that  she  cannot  do  things  for  herself,  at  least  she 
thinks  she  cannot.  As  for  father,  I  should  buy  a 
great  big  splendid  overcoat  for  him,  just  as  warm 
and  comfortable  as  could  be ;  he  wears  a  rather 
shabby  one  now;  and  it  is  not  warm  enough  for 
the  coldest  weather,  either ;  but  when  we  talk  to 
him  about  it  he  shakes  his  head  and  says  it  will 
do  nicely  for  him.  Then  for  the  girls,  since  it  is 
something  which  will  last  forever,  I  should  get 
real  '  truly '  pins,  costing  as  much  as  five  or  six 
dollars.  There !  Haven't  I  spent  almost  my 
hundred  dollars  ?  " 

But  at  this  tremendous  estimate  for  a  "  truly  " 
pin,  Uncle  Anthony  had  thrown  back  his  head  and 


110  MAKING  FATE. 

laughed  so  long  and  loud  that  it  was  some  moments 
before  he  could  answer  her. 

"  You  have  done  very  well,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  remarkably  well  for  a  girl ;  especially  about  the 
expensive  pins.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Well,  but,"  she  said  with  a  pretty  pretense  of 
indignation  that  was  if  possible  more  fascinating 
than  her  merriment.  "  What  would  you  have  me 
do  ?  I  could  not  spend  it  all  on  pins,  could  I,  and 
have  nothing  left  for  the  dress  and  overcoat  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  way  they  do  it  three-fourths  of 
the  time,  my  dear,  I  verily  believe,"  said  Uncle 
Anthony,  sobering  at  once,  and  regarding  his  niece 
with  an  air  of  peculiar  tenderness.  In  truth,  his 
laughter  had  been  very  near  to  tears.  This  inno 
cent  little  girl  who  had  fallen  so  unsuspectingly 
into  his  trap,  had  revealed  much  more  than  she 
realized.  The  fact  presented  itself  to  him  for  the 
first  time,  that  his  favorite,  and  indeed  only  sur 
viving  sister,  was  straitened  even  in  her  wardrobe. 
And  his  pale-faced  brother-in-law  who  had  for 
years  been  carrying  on  a  hand-to-hand  struggle 
with  feebleness,  wore  a  shabby  overcoat  which 
was  not  heavy  enough  for  him.  While  he,  Anthony 
Ward,  without  wife  or  child,  or  any  one  dependent 
upon  him,  was  receiving  a  fine  salary  and  tossing 
it  about  carelessly  without  regard  to  the  comfort 
of  even  his  very  own.  And  here  was  this  un 
selfish  girl  with  only  two  dollars  of  her  own  in 
the  'world,  planning  to  spend  every  cent  of  it  in 
little  useful  things  for  her  loved  ones,  conscious 


A  MARKED  DAY.  ill 

all  the  while  of  greater  needs  which  she  could 
not  supply. 

They  went  out  very  soon  after  this  ;  making 
their  way  with  all  speed  down  town,  and  plunging 
presently  into  the  wonders  and  delight  of  Denning's 
store. 

Here,  for  the  moment,  Glyde  lost  her  head 
entirely  over  the  glories  displayed,  and  Uncle 
Anthony  smiled  to  himself  as  he  thought  he  saw 
the  soft  white  silk  handkerchief  lose  its  important 
place  in  her  memory.  He  need  not  have  feared  ; 
in  a  very  few  minutes  she  pulled  herself  up 
sharply  and  said  with  the  gravity  of  one  who  had 
responsible  matters  on  her  shoulders, 

"  Uncle  Anthony,  take  me  to  the  handkerchief 
department,  please  ;  I  must  not  spend  time  over 
these  lovely  things  until  my  work  is  done." 

He  obeyed  in  subdued  silence ;  and,  with  the 
utmost  care,  the  handkerchief  was  chosen  from  a 
great  multitude.  The  particular  maiden  must 
have  it  just  so  fine,  and  of  just  such  a  delicate  tint 
of  creamy  white,  with  just  such  a  hemstitch  and 
no  other.  Before  the  purchase  was  completed, 
the  patient  saleswoman  and  the  patient  waiter  re 
alized  that  the  shopper  knew  just  what  she  wanted. 
Then  Uncle  Anthony  electrified  them  both  by 
gravely  asking  to  be  shown  some  black  silk  which 
would  match  the  handkerchief. 

"  You  mean  black  silk  handkerchiefs  ? "  said 
the  bewildered  clerk. 

"  Handkerchiefs  !    No,  indeed !     I  mean   black 


112  MAKING  FATE. 

silk  dresses,  or  the  stuff  to  make  them  of ;  such 
as  ladies  wear.  I  have  a  fancy  for  seeing  how  a 
white  handkerchief  looks  on  a  black  silk  dress." 

With  a  strange  mixture  of  bewilderment,  dis 
may,  and  delight  setting  all  her  pulses  to  throb 
bing,  Glyde  followed  her  uncle  through  the  intri 
cacies  of  one  department  after  another  until  the 
silk  "  room "  was  reached.  Here,  he  suddenly 
developed  into  the  keen  critical  man  of  business, 
examining  textures  and  shades  with  the  air  of  an 
expert,  and  asking  questions  which  betrayed  such 
a  surprising  knowledge  of  grades  and  styles  as 
to  fill  the  mind  of  his  niece  with  awe,  and  the 
clerk  with  respect.  He  ignored  Glyde's  timid 
hints  that  that  silk  was  very  expensive,  and  the 
other  was  very  heavy,  and  tossed  the  precious 
fabrics  about  with  careless  hand.  At  last  came 
the  important  question :  "  How  much  does  it  take 
to  make  a  dress  for  a  woman  of  medium  size  ?  " 
The  clerk  suggested  sixteen  yards. 

"  Then  give  me  twenty,  of  this  kind,"  he  said, 
promptly,  selecting  the  finest  piece  on  the  counter. 

Glyde  fairly  held  her  breath  while  the  rich 
breadths  were  being  counted  off.  Once  she.  began 
a  timid  protest. 

"  Uncle  Anthony,  can  you  possibly  be  buying 
that  for  mother  ?  I  never  even  dreamed  of  such 
a  thing  ;  and  mother  would  be  so  mortified  if  she 
thought  that  I "  he  interrupted  her. 

"  See  here ;  I  gave  careful  and  silent  attention 
to  your  shopping ;  now  you  just  hold  on  until  I 


A  MARKED  DAY.  113 

get  through  with  mine.  She  was  my  sister  long 
before  she  was  your  mother,  remember  ;  and  if  I 
have  a  fancy  to  see  how  a  black  silk  dress  looks 
under  a  white  silk  handkerchief,  what  is  that  to 
you  ?  Give  me  all  the  belongings  that  go  with 
such  a  dress  ;  buttons  and  braid,  and  lining,  and 
everything  you  can  think  of."  This  last,  to  the 
amused  saleswoman  who  hastened  to  do  his  bid 
ding.  Never  was  silk  dress  better  supplied  with 
"  belongings  "  than  was  that. 

From  the  silk  department  Uncle  Anthony  asked 
in  a  low  tone  to  be  shown  to  the  room  where  they 
kept  "  sacks  for  young  ladies  like  this  one ; "  with 
a  nod  of  his  head  toward  Glyde.  The  appreciative 
attendant  returned  the  nod,  and  led  the  way  swiftly, 
Glyde  following  her  uncle  in  a  state  of  mind  more 
easily  imagined  than  described.  In  vain  she  ex 
claimed  and  protested,  when  she  found  to  what  he 
had  brought  her.  Uncle  Anthony  had  taken 
matters  entirely  into  his  own  hands  and  would 
have  his  way. 

"  That  sack  is  all  very  well  for  Estelle,"  he 
assured  her,  "  and  I  don't  deny  that  it  is  rather 
becoming  to  you ;  but  you  might  as  well  have  one 
of  yom"  own,  and  I  have  a  fancy  for  a  kind  they 
used  to  wear,  which  I  see  has  come  back  again. 
Try  this  one  on,  little  girl,  and  let  me  see  how  it 
strikes  me." 

It  was  one  of  the  newest  styles,  fine  and  heavy, 
and  beautifully  trimmed,  yet  simple  enough  for  a 
girl  of  the  most  refined  tastes.  The  quick  eye  of 


114  MAKING  FATE. 

the  saleswoman  had  caught  the  right  size,  and  the 
garment  fitted  as  though  made  to  order. 

"It  suits  me  exactly,"  Uncle  Anthony  an 
nounced,  in  his  most  complacent  tone.  "  Your 
Aunt  Estelle  used  to  wear  one  very  much  like  it. 
Go  over  to  the  mirror,  little  girl,  and  see  what  you 
think.  If  it  pleases  you  as  much  as  it  does  me, 
we  will  call  it  a  bargain." 

No  girl  could  have  looked  at  herself  in  a  full 
length  mirror  and  caught  such  a  reflection  as 
Glyde  did,  without  being  pleased.  Her  face  spoke 
for  her." 

"  You  like  it  ?  "  said  Uncle  Anthony.  "  Glad  of 
it.  You  may  as  well  keep  it  on  and  have  the 
other  sent  home.  It  is  warmer  than  that ;  and 
this  is  a  pretty  cold  morning." 

"  But,  Uncle  Anthony,"  she  said,  moving  to 
ward  him  and  speaking  low.  Her  appalled  eyes 
had  caught  sight,  of  the  figure  marked  on  the 
sleeve-card,  and  she  did  not  know  how  to  make 
her  protest  strong  enough.  "  I  truly  do  not  need 
it ;  my  sack  which  I  have  at  home  is  warm ; 
warmer  than  Estelle's,  and  I* do  not  mind  its  being 
a  little  old-fashioned  ;  and  indeed  I  cannot  think 
that  you  know  how  very  expensive  this  one  is." 

"Yes,  I  do;  I  know  exactly  what  it  costs.  You 
don't  suppose  I  am  foolish  enough  to  buy  an 
article  without  finding  that  out  the  first  thing,  do 
you  ?  I  call  it  very  reasonable  for  a  garment  gotten 
up  in  that  style  ;  it  is  well  lined,  you  see,  and  will 
outlast  three  or  four  like  that  one  you  had  on. 


A  MARKED  DAY.  115 

The  question  is  does  it  suit  you  as  well  as  any 
thing  you  see  around  here  ?  " 

"  Oh,  it  could  not  be  lovelier,  but " 

"  Then  we  won't  waste  time  over  conjunctions, 
disjunctive  ones  at  that.  Just  let  the  young  lady 
wear  it  home,  will  you  ?  And  send  the  other  to 
my  hotel  with  the  handkerchief,  you  know,  and 
other  things?  " 

The  sympathetic  saleswoman  laughed ;  she  had 
not  had  such  an  enjoyable  customer  in  many  a 
day.  Her  heart  was  in  the  entire  enterprise.  She 
led  the  way  for  Uncle  Anthony  with  such  prompt 
ness  and  success  that  several  more  bewildering 
purchases  were  made  by  him  before  he  announced 
himself  ready  for  luncheon.  Uncle  Anthony's 
lunches,  which  he  managed  entirely,  were  little 
studies  in  art  for  his  companion.  On  this  par 
ticular  day,  the  oysters  he  ordered  were  served  in 
a  little  silver-covered  dish,  and  the  coffee  in  a  tiny 
silver  coffee-pot.  As  he  served  his  companion 
to  oysters,  and  beamed  on  her  while  she  poured 
him  a  cup  of  coffee  and  carefully  sugared  and 
creamed  it  to  his  liking,  he  said  :  "  This  is  some 
thing  like.  A  little  table  to  ourselves,  and  some 
body  to  look  after  me.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Glyde, 
I  think  I'll  steal  you  and  carry  you  home  to  keep 
house  for  me.  How  should  you  like  that  ?  The 
only  trouble  is,  I  don't  stay  at  home  three  weeks 
at  a  time  ;  and  what  would  become  of  my  bird  in 
her  cage  while  I  was  scurrying  around  the  country  ? 
What  will  you  have,  Glyde,  for  a  finish  ?  Cream, 


116  MAKING  FATE. 

or  what  ?  We  must  be  somewhat  expeditious  ;  it 
is  later  than  I  supposed,  and  there  is  a  good  deal 
of  business  to  be  done  yet." 

Glyde  assured  him  that  she  had  thought  every 
thing,  "  and  more  too,"  was  already  done  ;  but 
before  the  day  had  fairly  closed,  she  saw  how  mis 
taken  she  had  been.  The  neckties  were  duly 
attended  to,  and  then  Uncle  Anthony  seated  her 
in  a  chair  in  a  large  clothing  store  and  went  off  on 
his  own  account.  He  knew  about  overcoats,  and 
needed  none  of  her  assistance  or  protests  ;  but  he 
laughed  softly  while  he  tumbled  them  over  and 
examined  and  criticised  and  finally  selected,  at 
the  thought  of  the  mixture  of  delight  and  dismay 
with  which  the  "little  girl"  would  examine  this 
trophy  when  he  displayed  it  in  her  room  that 
evening.  He  took  care  that  it  should  be  heavy 
enough  and  of  a  material  which  would  last  for 
several  winters,  at  least.  But  no  word  concerning 
the  purchase  was  hinted  when  he  returned  to 
Glyde  to  know  if  she  was  rested  and  ready  for 
more  shopping.  Then  he  dazzled  her  completely 
by  the  display  of  glories  in  a  certain  jewelry  store 
on  Broadway.  It  was  by  no  means  the  one  in 
which  she  had  seen  the  thirty-five  cent  pins,  and 
she  exclaimed  in  almost  terror  over  the  marks 
attached  to  those  in  the  show  window ;  and  to  her 
uncle's  suggestion  that  she  might  as  well  have  a 
look  at  some  real  things,  while  she  had  the  oppor 
tunity,  replied  that  it  seemed  almost  wicked  even 
to  look  at  such  extravagance. 


A  MARKED  DAY.  117 

"  It  does,  really,"  she  said  in  great  earnestness, 
as  he  bent  over  the  case  with  her  and  followed  her 
eyes.  "  Look  at  that  blazing  circle  of  diamonds 
marked  two  thousand  dollars.  Think  of  wearing 
as  much  money  as  that  to  fasten  one's  collar  !  I 
am  honest  in  saying  I  think  it  is  wicked.  If  I 
were — oh  ever  so  rich  I  am  sure  I  shouldn't  do  it. 
At  least  I  mean  I  hope  I  shouldn't,  for  mustn't  it 
be  wicked  when  the  world  is  so  full  of  people  who 
actually  haven't  bread  enough  ?  " 

"  Don't  torture  me  with  any  ethics  of  that  kind 
'to-day,  little  girl,"  her  uncle  said  good-humor- 
edly,  "  I  am  not  in  the  mood  for  them.  I'm  not 
going  to  buy  any  two-thousand-dollar  diamonds, 
though  ;  you  need  not  be  troubled  ;  but  it  will  do 
no  harm  to  admire  them.  Come  to  this  side,  and 
see  if  you  find  anything  which  pleases  your  taste 
and  your  morals  better." 

The  case  on  the  other  side  gleamed  with 
beauty  ;  and  Glyde  studied  it,  and  exclaimed,  and 
enjoyed,  to  her  uncle's  entire  satisfaction.  They 
did  not  seem  so  "  wicked,"  she  assured  him. 
There,  for  instance,  was  a  "perfectly  lovely"  pin 
marked  fifteen  dollars  ;  to  be  sure  she  should  not 
think  of  buying  it,  not  if  she  had  the  money  in 
her  hand,  any  more  than  she  should  the  two- 
thousand-dollar  one ;  but  then,  being  the  real 
thing,  she  supposed  they  could  not  make  it  any 
cheaper  than  that ;  and  she  could  imagine  her 
self,  if  she  had  a  great  deal  of  money,  spending  so 
much  for  a  pin  and  thinking  it  right ;  because  it 


118  MAKING  FATE. 

was  something  which  would  always  last.  Then 
she  asked,  somewhat  timidly,  if  her  uncle  supposed 
it  possible  in  such  an  elegant  place  that  there 
could  be  any  real  cheap  pins  which  were  worth 
buying ;  like  those  she  had  told  him  about,  in  the 
window. 

"  Wait  a  little,"  he  said.  "  No,  I  don't  think 
there  are  any  of  that  kind  here  ;  but  we  can  go 
elsewhere,  after  we  have  had  our  enjoyment  out 
of  these.  I  like  that  twelve-dollar  one  at  the 
left ;  that  one  with  a  pearl  in  the  centre,  don't 
you  ? "  They  discussed  and  argued  over  the  dif 
ferent  styles,  and  agreed  and  disagreed  a  dozen 
times  as  to  shapes  and  degrees  of  beauty,  and  en 
joyed  themselves  as  only  a  girl  can  who  is  in  love 
with  the  beautiful,  and  has  had  little  chance  to 
enjoy  it,  and  a  man  who  is  lonely  and  is  getting 
his  pleasure  entirely  out  of  her  enjoyment. 
When  at  last  Glyde  obliged  herself  to  draw  back 
from  the  case  and  say  :  "  Uncle  Anthony,  I  am 
keeping  you  dreadfully,  am  I  not  ?  I  forgot  that 
we  ought  to  hurry,"  he  closed  the  scene  suddenly 
and  struck  her  dumb  with  amazement  and  con 
fusion,  by  ordering  two  of  the  twelve-dollar  pins 
which  she  had  insisted  were  the  prettier,  and  also 
the  identical  fifteen-dollar  one  which  she  had  first 
noticed,  and  to  which  her  affections  had  steadily 
clung. 

"  Oh  dear !  "  she  said  almost  with  a  sob,  as 
they  emerged  at  last  from  the  place  of  enchant- 


A  MARKED  DAY.  119 

ment,  "  Uncle   Anthony,  I    don't  know  what  to 
say  to  you." 

"  Say  it  is  cold ;  "  said  her  uncle,  briskly,  "  and 
that  we  must  hurry  home  to  dinner.  We  have 
got  to  hunt  up  another  prayer  meeting  to-night." 


120  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

REAPING     THORNS. 

MARJORIE  EDMONDS  was  in  her  room  alone. 
It  was  late  and  the  house  was  still.  The  door 
which  communicated  with  her  mother's  room,  and 
which  generally  stood  wide  open,  was  closed. 

"  I  will  open  it,  mother,"  Marjorie  had  said, 
"  when  I  am  ready  for  bed.  I  want  to  write  in 
my  diary  first,  and  do  a  few  little  things,  and  I'm 
afraid  of  disturbing  you."  And  then  she  had 
kissed  her  good-night  with  a  smile. 

But  the  mother  had  sighed,  after  the  door  was 
closed.  She  knew  that  Marjorie  had  other  things 
to  think  about  besides  her  diary.  She  knew  that 
her  heart  was  ill  at  ease  ;  and  the  mother  felt  so 
little  in  sympathy  with  the  struggle  which  was 
going  on,  that  she  must  keep  away  from  it. 

It  was  three  weeks  since  that  eventful  nutting- 
party  had  gone  merrily  on  its  way  without  a 
thought  of  the  day  being  seriously  connected 
with  the  future  of  any  of  its  members.  Yet  Mar 
jorie  had  known  few  happy  moments  since  that  day. 
Indifferent  as  she  had  appeared  to  Ralph  Bramlett, 
if  that  3roung  man  had  been  ever  so  slight  a 
student  of  human  nature,  he  would  have  seen 


REAPING  THORNS.  121 

that  her  very  indifference  was  an  indication  of 
strong  feeling.  Indignation  might  be  natural  and 
pardonable  under  the  circumstances,  but  Mar- 
jorie  Edmonds  was  not  the  girl  to  put  away  thus 
suddenly  the  playmate  of  her  childhood  and  the 
companion  and  confidant  of  her  girlhood,  with 
out  keen  pain.  There  had  been  no  deliberate 
intention  of  putting  him  away.  There  had  been 
at  first  only  strong  indignation.  He  deserved  the 
fright  she  gave  him ;  he  deserved  the  coldness 
with  which  she  had  greeted  him  that  afternoon. 
"  What  young  woman  who  respected  herself  could 
do  less  than  that  ?  "  she  had  asked  herself  as  she 
closed  the  store-door  and  made  her  way  through 
the  crowds  of  Christmas  shoppers,  thinking,  not  of 
the  purchases  she  had  come  to  make,  but  of  the 
young  man  outside.  Yet  even  then  she  felt, 
rather  than  planned,  that  this  sort  of  thing  should 
not  last.  Ralph  would  call  to  see  her,  of  course  ; 
probably  that  afternoon,  on  his  way  home,  or  cer 
tainly  in  the  evening. 

Then  they  would  talk  matters  over.  He  would 
explain  to  her  why  he  had  been  so  hateful  the 
other  day, — and  now  she  more  than  half  surmised 
the  reason.  "  He  did  not  want  me  to  be  annoyed 
by  Estelle's  absurdities,"  said  this  forgiving  heart. 
He  would  make  it  all  plain  to  her  and  ask  her  to 
forgive  him ;  and  then,  after  he  had  humiliated 
himself  quite  as  much  as  he  should,  she  would 
softly  admit  that  her  part  of  the  performance  had 
been  rash  and  cruel ;  that  she  was  sorry  for  the 


122  MAKING  FATE. 

fright  she  gave  him.  Then  she  would  tell  him 
how  frightened  she  was,  and  how  she  had  thought 
at  the  time  that  if  he  were  only  walking  beside 
her  she  would  not  be  afraid  of  anything.  Why, 
it  would  all  be  made  up  between  them,  of  course ; 
how  absurd  in  friends  of  their  standing  to  quarrel 
over  a  trifle  !  For  even  at  that  early  day  Marjorie 
began  to  try  to  call  Ralph's  treatment  of  her  a 
trifle.  If  he  had  called  that  evening  she  would 
have  been  almost  ready  for  him.  But  he  did  not; 
he  went  to  New  York.  When  Marjorie  heard 
that,  she  was  startled.  Ralph  must  be  very  much 
hurt  indeed  to  go  out  of  town  without  seeing  her. 
If  she  had  known  that  he  was  going  away,  perhaps 
she  would  not  have  responded  so  coldly  to  his 
good-afternoon.  She  heard  also  that  he  had  been 
ill,  which  accounted,  she  believed,  for  his  not  com 
ing  at  once  to  see  her.  She  thought  much  about 
him  during  the  next  two  days.  Had  Ralph  taken 
that  midnight  train  from  New  York  as  he  at*  first 
planned,  and  called  upon  her  the  next  evening, 
she  would  have  been  quite  ready  for  him,  and  all 
the  soothing  words  he  had  imagined  as  flowing 
from  her  lips,  would  doubtless  have  been  heard. 
But  he  did  not  come  ;  and  she  heard,  through 
Estelle  Douglass,  that  he  had  gone  to  New  York 
for  the  winter !  And  he  did  not  write  !  Two 
weeks  went  by,  and  then  suddenly,  one  morning, 
Ralph  passed  the  house  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
street ;  he  was  talking  with  Estelle  Douglass,  and 
as  they  walked  slowly  by,  neither  of  them  raised 


REAPING  THORNS.  123 

their  eyes  to  her  window.  Then  Marjorie  began 
to  grow  indignant  over  again.  If  Ralph  meant  to 
cast  her  off  in  this  way  because  she  chose  not  to 
leave  her  mother  all  night,  after  he  had  failed  her, 
then  he  might ;  she  was  willing.  She  drew  her 
self  up  proudly,  and  looked  after  the  slow  walkers 
with  dry  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks.  But  this 
mood  did  not  last ;  she  was  sure  Ralph  must  mis 
understand.  He  could  not  know  how  she  had 
longed  to  get  home,  and  how  she  had  suffered  in 
coming.  Perhaps  he  knew  nothing  about  it ;  per 
haps  he  imagined  that  Mr.  Maxwell  had  called 
for  her  by  appointment,  and  taken  her  home. 

"  People  will  imagine  anything,"  said  poor 
Marjorie,  "  when  they  are  excited." 

By  degrees  it  almost  began  to  seem  to  her  that 
Ralph  was  the  injured  one,  and  that  she  ought  to 
speak  some  word  which  would  reach  his  ears. 

Meantime,  the  mother  looked  on,  and  was  some 
times  sympathetic,  and  sometimes  indignant,  and 
all  the  time  miserable.  It  has  doubtless  been  dis 
covered  before  this,  that  Ralph  Bramlett  was  not 
Mrs.  Edmonds's  choice  for  her  daughter.  In 
truth,  the  daughter  by  no  means  made  it  manifest 
that  he  was  her  own  choice ;  but  the  mother, 
looking  on,  feared  exceedingly,  yet  was  afraid  to 
speak,  lest  that  which  she  feared  would  be  precip 
itated  thereby.  "  They  are  only  boy-and-girl 
friends,"  she  told  herself  encouragingly  at  times  ; 
but  at  other  times  she  realized  that  boys  and  girls 
grow  to  be  men  and  women.  At  least  two  years 


124  MAKING  FATE. 

before  this  time,  she  had  felt  sure  that  her  daugh 
ter  had  outgrown  Ralph  B  ramie  tt ;  but  the 
daughter  had  not  discovered  it.  What  if  she 
should  never  discover  it !  Then  the  mother  won 
dered  if  Ralph  Bramlett  could  not  be  made  to 
grow,  even  to  overtake  her  daughter.  To  this 
end  she  had  set  herself  to  work  to  try  to  bring 
all  wise  influences  to  bear  upon  him  ;  but  Ralph, 
although  it  may  be  hoped  that  he  did  not  know  it, 
was  skillful  in  putting  aside  wise  influences. 
When  the  nutting  party  came,  and  the  break 
which  grew  out  of  it,  this  mother  secretly  rejoiced. 
When  Ralph  went  to  New  York  without  word  or 
sign,  she  was  of  course  indignant  with  him  for  her 
daughter's  sake,  but  secretly  glad,  also,  for  her 
sake.  If  only  he  would  stay  away  and  write  no 
letters,  in  the  course  of  time  her  daughter's  self- 
respect  would  assert  itself,  and  she  would  realize 
'that  she  had  been  tossed  aside  in  a  pet.  But  now 
he  had  returned,  and  had  been  at  home  for  a  week, 
and  some  astounding  things  had  occurred.  For 
the  first  day  or  two  following  the  young  man's 
return,  Marjorie  had  been  nervous  to  a  degree 
that  no  one  had  ever  observed  in  her  before.  She 
had  started  and  grown  pale  at  every  sound  of  the 
door-bell,  and  had  been  at  all  times  on  the  alert 
for  something  to  happen.  Something  happened, 
but  it  was  not  what  she  had  expected.  Does 
what  we  are  expecting  ever  happen  ?  Ralph 
Bramlett  did  not  call,  but  Estelle  Douglass  did. 
"  Of  course  you  know  the  latest  item  of  news?  " 


REAPING  THORNS.  125 

she  said.  "  Indeed,  I  suppose  you  knew  it  long 
before  we  did.  And  of  course  you  approve,  or  it 
never  would  have  been  done ;  but  I  confess  I  was 
astonished  when  I  heard  it." 

"That  is  very  interesting,"  laughed  Marjorie, 
"  or  would  be  if  I  had  an  idea  what  you  were 
talking  about.  I  cannot  recall  any  item  of  news." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  little  Marjorie  !  you  mustn't  tell 
fibs ;  and  you  a  descendant  of  the  Puritans ! 
Such  an  unnecessary  fib,  too  !  Do  you  expect  me 
to  imagine  for  a  moment  that  Ralph  Bramlett 
transacts  important  business  without' your  knowl 
edge?" 

Now  the  form  in  which  Marjorie  Edmonds's 
pride  was  besetting  her  at  this  time  was  that  she 
could  not  endure  the  thought  of  having  Estelle 
Douglass  know  that  she  did  not  understand 
Ralph's  affairs  as  thoroughly  as  usual ;  so  to  this 
sentence  no  other  reply  could  be  made  than  a 
half  laughing,  non-committal  one.  Estelle  pressed 
the  point. 

"  Tell  me  honestly,  Marjorie,  were  you  not 
surprised  and  a  good  deal  disappointed  when  he 
told  you  about  it  ?  I  said  you  would  never 
consent  to  it,  and  that  I  did  not  believe  Ralph  would 
go  contrary  to  your  wishes.  Of  course  it  is  a  whole 
sale  business,  and  all  that,  and  Ralph  is  only  the 
bookkeeper.  He  will  have  no  more  to  do  with 
selling  the  stuff  than  we  shall,  but  still " 

This  was  growing  alarming.  Mrs.  Edmonds  in 
the  next  room  caught,  through  the  open  doorway,  a 


1-26  MAKING  FATE. 

glimpse  of  Marjorie's  paling  face,  and  came  to  the 
rescue. 

"  Are  you  talking  of  Ralph's  latest  business 
venture  ?  "  she  asked,  appearing  at  the  door  and 
speaking  as  calmly  as  though  she  had  known  for 
weeks  all  that  there  was  to  know  concerning  it. 

u  Yes,  "  said  Estelle  turning  eagerly  to  a  new 
medium  for  her  coveted  information.  "  What  did 
you  say  to  it,  Mrs.  Edmonds  ?  Mother  and  I  said 
that  Mrs.  Edmonds  would  be  shocked;  that  young 
people  might  comfort  themselves  with  the  thought 
that  a  bookkeeper  in  a  distillery  had  nothing 
to  do  with  the  liquor  business,  but  that  women  of 
Mrs.  Edmonds's  stamp  would  not  take  it  so  calmly, 

"  You  are  right,"  said   Mrs.   Edmonds  in   her 
quietest  tone,  "  I  do  not  approve  of  it  at  all." 
"Mother!"    began    Marjorie,  turning  glowing 

cheeks  toward  her,  "  do    you  think "  then  she 

stopped.  What  she  began  to  say  was  :  "  Do  you 
think  that  we  need  to  discuss  Ralph  Bram- 
lett's  affairs  with  outsiders?"  but  the  manifest 
rudeness  of  such  a  sentence  both  to  her  mother 
and  their  guest  arrested  her  lips  in  time.  Instead, 
she  said :  "  Do  you  think  I  ought  to  try  to  get 
that  letter  off  by  this  mail  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Edmonds.  "  It  will  save 
twenty-four  hours  if  you  do.  Estelle  will  excuse 
you  for  a  few  minutes."  And  Marjorie  ran  away. 

The  letter  was  one  which  could  have  waited,  but 
the  mother  felt  that  her  daughter  could  not  en 
dure  more,  just  then;  and  it  was  undoubtedly 


REAPING  THORNS.  127 

true  that  twenty-four  hours  could  be  saved  by  mail 
ing  it  now ;  so  she  spoke  only  truth.  When  the 
door  closed  after  Marjorie,  she  turned  quietly  to 
Estelle. 

"  This  is  a  very  sudden  movement  upon  Ralph's 
part."  The  tone  was  ambiguous.  It  might  have 
a  slight  rising  inflection  ;  but  it  was  not  intended 
to  inform  the  guest  that  Mrs.  Edmonds  knew 
nothing  about  the  matter  and  was  seeking  infor 
mation. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Estelle.  "  I  did  not  know 
how  long  he  had  been  planning  it.  I  heard  of  it 
only  yesterday.  I  must  say  I  was  surprised,  and 
yet  in  a  sense  I  wasn't.  He  was  so  dreadfully 
disappointed  about  that  New  York  affair,  you 
know;  and  he  hates  farming.  Then,  too,  I  sup 
pose  it  is  quite  necessary  that  he  get  to  work 
in  some  way.  The  Bramlett  farm  is  all  run 
down,  people  say.  This  will  be  only  temporary, 
of  course ;  but  it  is  a  great  temptation  to  a  young 
man.  He  will  have  a  very  good  salary." 

It  was  a  settled  thing  then.  At  least  Estelle 
Douglass  thought  so.  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  con 
tinued  in  her  very  quiet  way  to  get,  without  ap 
pearing  to,  what  information  she  could  without 
giving  any.  When  Marjorie  returned,  the  letter 
having  been  posted,  she  was  as  quiet  and  uninter 
esting  as  her  mother. 

"  They  take  it  very  differently  from  what  I  sup 
posed  they  would,"  Estelle  reported  at  home. 
"  Even  Mrs.  Edmonds,  it  seems,  is  willing  to  have 


128  MAKING  FATE. 

him  get  fifteen  hundred  a  year  in  these  hard  times. 
But  they  have  been  such  fanatical  temperance 
people  always  that  I  must  say  it  astonished  me. 
Oh,  Mrs.  Edmonds  said  she  did  not  approve  of  it, 
but  Marjorie  colored  up  and  looked  annoyed  at 
her  for  even  that,  though  she  said  it  quietly 
enough."  And  this  was  all  that  Estelle  had 
learned. 

In  the  Edmonds  home  utmost  quiet  reigned 
after  the  caller's  departure.  Marjorie  had  her 
sewing,  and  she  sewed  steadily  and  silently  for 
some  minutes  ;  then  she  said  timidly  :  "  Mother, 
why  don't  you  say  something  ?  " 

Mrs.  Edmonds  turned  from  her  cutting-table 
and  smiled  tenderly  on  her  daughter. 

"  What  should  I  say,  little  girl  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  believe  that  absurd  report  about 
Ralph,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  too  true,  dear.  Estelle  was 
not  only  thoroughly  posted,  but  seemed  to  think 
that  we  were  also.  She  says  he  is  regularly  en 
gaged  as  bookkeeper,  on  a  salary  of  fifteen  hun 
dred  dollars." 

"  But,  mother,  it  is  too  absurd  !  Ralph  a  book 
keeper  in  a  distillery.  He  is  a  temperance  man." 

Mrs.  Edmonds'  lip  curled  a  very  little ;  she 
could  not  help  it ;  she  turned  quickly  back  to  her 
table  to  hide  the  curl.  She  wanted*  to  say  :  "  He 
is  not  a  man  at  all ;  he  is  only  a  grown-up  boy 
with  feelings,  instead  of  convictions,  and  he  can 
therefore  be  swayed  by  the  passing  moment  in  any 


HEAPING  THORNS.  129 

way  that  the  current  happens  to  be  the  strongest. 
But  she  forbore,  and  took  refuge  again  in  silence. 

"  Mother,"  burst  forth  Marjorie  again,  "  I 
think  it  is  dreadful  in  you  to  listen  to  that"  girl's 
gossip  about  Ralph.  If  he  has  made  her  believe 
that  he  is  about  to  do  some  desperate  thing  like 
that,  he  has  been  driven  to  it  by  disappointments 
and  annoyances.  But  I  do  not  believe  she  has 
any  foundation  for  her  story.  You  do  not  know 
Estelle  so  well  as  I  do.  To  put  it  mildly,  she  is 
very  careless  with  her  statements  ;  jumps  at  con 
clusions,  and  reports,  as  facts,  statements  which 
are  made  sometimes  in  mere  sport.  Ralph  has 
perhaps  gotten  off  some  nonsense  to  her,  which 
with  her  usual  haste  she  has  made  into  a  story, 
and  rushed  to  tell.  I  think  I  shall  write  a  note 
to  him,  mother,  and  tell  him  what  an  absurd  report 
is  being  circulated." 

Then  was  Mrs.  Edmonds  dismayed.  A  note  to 
Ralph,  written  in  the  style  in  which  Marjorie  could 
write  it,  would  be  likely  she  felt  to  put  matters  on 
the  old  footing  between  them  ;  and  from  this  her 
heart  shrank  with  ever  increasing  pain. 

"  I  thought,  daughter,"  she  said,  trying  to  keep 
her  voice  from  expressing  either  pain  or  annoy 
ance,  "  that  Ralph's  treatment  of  you  had  been 
such  as  to  make  note-writing  to  him  out  of  the 
question;,  at  least  until  he  apologized." 

But  the  daughter  had  made  a  movement  of  im 
patience  as  she  replied  :  "  Oh,  mother  !  I  don't 
feel  about  that  quite  as  I  did.  I  begin  to  under- 
9 


130  MAKING  FATE. 

stand  it  better.  Ralph  probably  wanted  to  shield 
both  himself  and  me  from  Estelle's  witty  and  dis 
agreeable  tongue.  I  am  sure  after  my  experience 
this  morning  with  her,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  sym 
pathize  with  him.  In  any  case  it  does  not  seem 
to  be  just  the  right  thing  to  let  such  a  matter 
make  trouble  between  friends  of  a  life-time.  It 
wouldn't  be  a  very  Christian-like  way  to  manage, 
would  it?" 

When  Marjorie  said  that,  she  felt  that  it  ought 
to  close  her  mother's  mouth.  She  made  no  pre 
tensions  to  being  a  Christian  herself,  but  surely 
her  mother  ought  to  be  glad  when  she  tried  to  gov 
ern  her  life  by  such  principles.  And  Mrs.  Ed 
monds,  not  in  the  least  convinced,  felt,  nevertheless, 
that  once  more  the  time  had  come  for  silence. 
Marjorie  wrote  the  note,  and  brought  it  to  her 
mother  to  read. 

"Dear  Ralph,"  it  commenced,  but  that  of  course, 
was  nothing ;  notes  with  more  or  less  frequency 
had  passed  between  these  two  ever  since  they  had 
learned  to  write,  and  they  had  always  been  "Dear 
Ralph  "  and  "  Dear  Marjorie."  The  mother  be 
lieved  that  if  they  were  children  again  she  would 
order  her  daughter's  course  differently.  Was  she 
beginning  to  reap  what  she  had  sown? 

But  the  note  was  simple  enough.  Marjorie  ig 
nored  any  trouble  between  them.  "  I  am  writing 
a  line  in  haste,"  she  said,  "  to  tell  you  of  a  ridicu 
lous  rumor  which  I  heard  but  this  morning,  to  the 
effect  that  you  are  going  into  the  liquor  business  ! 


REAPING  THORNS.  131 

or  into  a  clerkship  with  liquor  dealers,  which  is 
much  the  same  thing.  Of  course  I  do  not  credit 
it,  but  thought  I  would  give  you  a  friendly  hint  of 
what  tongues  are  busy  about.  I  suppose  you  have 
been  very  busy  since  your  return,  but  is  it  not 
nearly  time  for  you  to  remember  that  you  have 
friends  living  on  Maple  Avenue?" 

A  very  simple  note,  but  the  mother  was  bitterly 
disappointed  in  it.  What  more  could  a  young  man 
desire  ?  Surely  she  must  protest,  even  though  she 
precipitated  what  she  most  feared.  Her  duty 
ought  to  be  done. 

"  Daughter,"  she  began,  hesitating  and  trying 
to  choose  her  words  with  utmost  care,  "  are  you 
not  afraid  that  a  young  man  like  Ralph  Bramlett 
will  take  advantage  of  such  a  note  as  that,  under 
the  circumstances?" 

Marjorie  opened  her  eyes  wide  in  astonishment. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  said.  "  What  ad 
vantage  could  he  take  ?  It  is  like  dozens  of  notes 
that  I  have  written  him  before." 

"  I  know,  and  for  that  very  reason  is  encourag 
ing.  You  and  Ralph  cannot  remain  children  ; 
you  have  grown  up ;  and  he  is  of  the  age  when 
one  looks  for  at  least  a  dawning  of  manhood. 
In  a  heedless  boy  many  things  can  be  overlooked 
which  in  a  young  man  are  almost  unpardonably 
rude.  Ralph  was  certainly  very  rude  to  you,  and 
you  felt  it  keenly  ;  yet  you  have  written  to  him  as 
though  nothing  had  happened,  and  he  was  at 


132  MAKING  FATE. 

liberty  to  be  on  the  old  footing,  without  a  word 
of  apology." 

Again  that  movement  of  impatience,  and  the 
daughter  spoke  in  a  tone  which  her  mother  did  not 
often  hear. 

"  Mother  how  can  you  be  so  hard  upon  Ralph ! 
when  you  have  known  and  cared  for  him  ever 
since  he  was  a  little  boy  ?  He  does  not  think  of 
me  as  a  young  lady  with  whom  he  must  be  cere 
monious.  I  was  foolish  to  make  so  much  of  what 
was  so  small  an  affair.  When  one  comes  to  con 
sider  it,  how  could  he  do  as  I  wished,  without  re 
gard  to  the  others  ?  I  suppose  if  the  truth  were 
known,  I  am  the  one  who  ought  to  apologize,  for 
he  must  have  been  dreadfully  frightened  about  me." 

Every  uttered  word  seemed  to  make  matters 
more  hopeless  from  the  mother's  standpoint.  She 
resolutely  closed  her  lips,  resolving  that  no  provo 
cation  should  induce  her  to  say  more  at  this  time. 
Nay,  to  Marjorie's  somewhat  timid  question  put  a 
few  minutes  later,  "  Mamma,  do  you  really  disap 
prove  of  my  sending  the  note  ?  "  she  forced  herself 
to  reply, 

"  Oh,  I  presume  not,  daughter.  As  you  say,  it 
is  a  matter  connected  with  a  boy-and-girl  friend 
ship,  instead  of  between  a  lady  and  gentleman.  I 
presume  Ralph  thinks  of  you  in  the  light  of  a  sis 
ter  ;  and  some  boys  think  they  can  be  rude  to  their 
sisters  whenever  they  feel  like  it." 

Poor  Marjorie  had  said  nothing  of  this  kind, 
but  her  mother  liked  to  think  that  she  had. 


A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  MOODS.  133 


CHAPTER  XII. 

A  YOUNG   MAN  OF   MOODS. 

THE  note  was  sent,  and  three  days  passed  before 
any  reply  to  it  was  received.  There  were  reasons 
for  this  state  of  things.  In  the  first  place  perhaps 
Ralph  Bramlett  had  deteriorated  more  rapidly  in 
the  weeks  which  had  intervened  since  he  had  seen 
Maijorie,  than  people  can  understand  who  do  not 
know  how  rapid,  at  times,  can  be  the  descent  of  a 
soul.  Just  what  forces  were  brought  to  bear 
upon  him  to  help  him  downward  would  be  diffi 
cult  to  explain.  In  truth  there  was  no  perceptible 
force ;  he  simply  slipped,  and  allowed  himself  to 
keep  on  sliding  without  an  effort  to  recover  him 
self;  without  even  realizing  that  he  was  sliding, 
or  at  least  that  he  had  anything  to  do  with  such  a 
state  of  things.  It  was  always  Fate.  He  did  not 
take  the  midnight  train  for  home,  as  he  had  nearly 
planned.  It  was  the  hapless  young  victim  whom 
he  had  studied  at  the  theatre  who  prevented  him 
from  doing  that.  Since  the  world  was  going  against 
him,  let  it  go ;  he  would  have  as  good  a  time  as  he 
could  by  the  way.  That  was  the  mood  in  which 
he  had  retired  for  the  night  at  a  late  hour.  It 


134  MAKING  FATE. 

possessed  him  to  an  even  greater  degree  when  he 
arose  the  next  morning,  with  a  headache,  and  the 
dregs  of  his  cold  still  shivering  at  him.  He  fell 
in,  that  day,  with  some  companions  who  helped 
him  in  his  slipping.  Companions  of  that  character 
can  nearly  always  be  found,  even  without  search. 
At  the  end  of  three  days  the  money  he  had  brought 
with  him  from  home  was  very  nearly  exhausted, 
but  he  stayed  on,  in  the  belief  that  he  was  looking 
for  work ;  though  as  he  would  do  only  certain 
kinds  of  work  and  the  market  seemed  to  be  al 
ready  overstocked  with  people  of  like  mind  with 
himself,  he  had  very  little  hope  of  success.  Still, 
he  wrote  home  explaining  what  he  fancied  at  times 
was  his  motive  for  staying,  and  his  father  raised 
not  without  difficulty,  the  amount  of  money  which 
his  son  believed  he  needed  for  a  month's  stay,  and 
sent  it  to  him.  For  this  expenditure  Hannah 
Bramlett  quietly  made  some  sacrifices  of  cherished 
hopes ;  not  large  ones,  but  they  meant  a  good  deal 
to  her.  At  the  end  of  ten  days  the  money  was 
exhausted  and  Ralph  came  home.  Nothing  very 
alarming  from  an  outsider's  point  of  view  had  oc 
curred  during  his  stay  in  New  York.  He  had  held 
himself  from  grave  troubles  of  every  sort.  Noth 
ing  more  important  appeared  on  the  surface  than 
a  debt  of  five  dollars  which  had  been  borrowed  in 
an  emergency  from  one  of  his  new  friends.  He 
had  been  assured  that  it  was  of  no  consequence  at 
all,  in  response  to  his  repeated  statements  that  he 
would  send  the  amount  as  soon  as  he  reached  home. 


A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  AfOODS.  135 

He  knew  that  he  would  do  so ;  that  his  honorable 
father  would  somehow  secure  the  sum,  though  it 
were  many  times  that  amount,  rather  than  have  a 
debt  stain  the  Bramlett  name.  Ralph  assured 
himself  that  by  so  much  he  was  like  his  father; 
and  as  the  train  sped  along,  he  took  pleasure  in  the 
thought  that  he  was  an  honorable  man,  and  that 
he  was  coming  home  from  a  first  visit  in  the  great 
city  without  any  of  the  smirches  on  his  name  which 
some  young  men  had  brought  from  there.  And 
yet,  as  has  been  said,  Ralph  had  changed  in  many 
ways  during  that  short  period.  One  way  in  which 
it  was  evidenced  was  his  manner  of  receiving  a 
certain  bit  of  information  which  came  to  him  but 
the  evening  before  he  left  the  city.  He  fell  in 
with  a  commercial  traveler  who  had  often  visited 
his  own  town,  and  with  whom  he  had  a  slight  ac 
quaintance.  At  that  distance  from  home  the  man 
seemed  like  a  friend,  and  Ralph  confided  to  him 
his  disgust  for  the  farm  and  his  futile  efforts  to 
secure  a  position  to  his  mind. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  the  genial  man,  "  I 
believe  I  know  just  the  place  for  you.  Do  you 
understand  bookkeeping  ?  Well,  then,  the  place 
is  waiting  for  you.  I  suppose  you  know  the  Sny- 
ders,  by  reputation  at  least?  They  are  looking 
for  a  bookkeeper  of  the  right  sort.  He  isn't  easy 
to  find.  Their  business  is  very  large,  you  know, 
and  they  must  have  a  man  of  undoubted  integrity. 
They  give  a  fairly  good  salary  on  the  start,  with  a 
chance  for  increase  if  there  is  satisfaction.  Fif- 


136  MAKING  FATE. 

tee  11  hundred  a  year  is  more  than  you  can  clear 
from  the  farm,  I  fancy;  and  a  few  years  of  clerk 
ship  of  this  sort  would  enable  you  to  save  money 
enough  to  study  law  on  your  own  account  if  you 
wanted  to.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  opportunity 
for  study,  by  the  way,  in  that  sort  of  clerkship. 
It  isn't  steady  work  all  the  while  that  they  pay 
for,  you  know,  it's  responsibility.  Why  not  try 
for  the  place  ?  I  think  I  could  put  you  in  the  way 
of  getting  it ;  our  firm  and  the  Snyders  have  busi 
ness  relations  which  make  them  very  friendly.  I 
believe  our  Mr.  Perkins  would  recommend  a  name 
that  I  gave  him,  and  the  Snyders  will  be  very  likely 
to  listen  to  Mr.  Perkins.  Shall  I  set  the  ball  to 
rolling?  " 

Now  the  Snyders  were  well  known  to  Ralph 
Bramlett;  in  fact,  one  of  them  had  his  handsome 
home  in  the  same  town  where  Ralph  lived,  and 
went  to  and  from  it  every  day  by  train  to  the  city 
two  hours'  distant,  where  his  business  lay.  It 
flashed  through  Ralph's  mind  that  he  Could,  very 
possibly,  do  the  same,  thus  saving  his  board,  and 
enjoying  what  he  had  always  fancied  he  should 
especially  like,  a  daily  ride  on  the  cars.  Yet  he 
hesitated.  Why  ?  Even  so  short  a  time  as  three 
weeks  before  he  would  not  have  hesitated  for  a 
moment.  He  could  almost  hear  the  echo  of  his 
answer.  "  No,  thank  you  ;  it  is  a  very  good  berth 
for  people  of  like  views  with  the  Snyders  ;  but 
the  Bramletts  for  generations  back  have  been 
staunch  temperance  men,  you  see ;  dead  set 


A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  MOODS.  137 

against  the  whole  business.  For  his  grandson  to 
become  for  ever  so  short  a  time  bookkeeper  in  a  dis 
tillery  would  disturb  even  the  rest  of  heaven  for 
Grandfather  Bramlett,  I  am  afraid."  In  point  of 
fact,  there  could  have  been  no  such  echo,  for  he 
made  no  such  answer.  The  commercial  traveler, 
seeing  his  hesitation,  continued : 

"•  It  isn't  a  subordinate  position,  you  know ;  as 
bookkeeper  you  would  be  looked  upon  as  a  gen 
tleman,  and  have  more  leisure  and  more  courtesy 
shown  you  than  in  a  lawyer's  office,  by  a  great 
sight ;  and  then  there  is  the  chance  to  rise." 

"  I  know,"  said  Ralph,  slowly.  "  It  would  be 
a  very  good  temporary  opportunity  if  it  were  not 
for  the  business.  My  people  are  prejudiced  in 
that  direction." 

"  Oh,  because  it  is  a  distillery  ?  I  see.  But 
then,  man  alive !  it  isn't  a  partnership  in  the  con 
cern.  As  a  clerk  who  keeps  the  books,  of  course 
you  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  sale  of 
liquors.  Why,  an  angel  might  straighten  out  the 
books  of  a  firm,  seems  to  me ;  there  is  no  respon 
sibility  involved,  except  with  money." 

Now  the  commercial  traveler  was  honest  enough  ; 
he  was  not  a  deep  thinker  in  any  direction ;  he 
had  never  been  educated  along  these  lines,  and 
the  matter  looked  to  him  as  he  had  stated  it.  But 
Ralph  Bramlett,  as  far  back  in  his  family  history 
as  he  could  remember  anything,  had  known  of  his 
grandfather  as  a  temperance  thinker,  speaker  and 
writer ;  a  radical  of  the  radicals.  His  son, 


138  MAKING  FATE. 

Ralph's  father,  had  so  far  followed  in  the  family 
line  as  to  bring  up  his  children  to  believe  that 
liquor-selling  was  a  sin ;  and  that  all  connection 
'with  it,  however  remote,  was  therefore  sinful.  On 
occasion,  Ralph  could  argue  for  this  side  of  the 
question,  and  had  done  so  in  the  debating  society, 
in  a  way  to  win  commendation  from  certain  who 
shook  hands  with  him,  and  assured  him  that  they 
remembered  his  grandfather,  and  that  he  was  a 
worthy  chip  of  the  old  block.  Yet  this  young 
man  with  "  feelings,"  not  convictions,  hesitated 
and  argued  weakly,  and  allowed  himself  to  be 
convinced ;  and  the  good-natured  commercial 
traveler  "  set  the  ball  to  rolling  "  with  such  suc 
cess,  that,  before  Ralph  Bramlett  had  been  at  home 
two  days  he  received  an  invitation  to  become 
bookkeeper  in  the  firm  of  Snyder,  Snyder  &  Co. 
On  the  third  day  he  accepted  it.  Not  until  after 
he  had  sent  his  letter  of  acceptance  did  he  tell  his 
father  and  mother  and  Hannah.  It  so  happened 
that  before  he  told  even  them,  he  had  met  Estelle 
Douglass  and  made  haste,  he  could  not  have  told 
why,  to  explain  the  situation  to  her.  She  had 
irritated  him  at  the  time,  as  she  nearly  always  did, 
despite  the  strange  fascination  which  she  had  for 
him. 

"•  What  does  Marjorie  say  about  it  ?  "  she  had 
exclaimed.  "I  don't  see,  for  my  part,  why, it  is 
not  a  sensible  enough  thing  to  do.  As  you  say, 
you  have  no  more  to  do  with  liquor-selling  than 
the  rest  of  us  have ;  and  keeping  books  is  an 


A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  MOODS.  139 

honorable  enough  employment  ;  but  I  shouldn't 
have  supposed  that  Marjorie  Edmonds  would  have 
thought  so  for  a  moment ;  nor  your  father  and 

O  tf 

mother,  either,  for  that  matter ;  but  then  you  are 
of  age,  of  course,  and  will  do  as  you  please ;  but  I 
am  amazed  at  Marjorie  giving  her  consent." 

Said  the  young  man  who  was  being  swayed 
continually  by  impulse,  "  Why  do  you  always 
speak  as  though  Marjorie  Edmonds  had  a  mort 
gage  on  my  common  sense,  and  judgment,  and 
everything  of  the  sort  ?  I  have  said  nothing  about 
how  she  regarded  it;  nor  can  I  imagine  why  it 
should  concern  her;  it  is  a  purely  business  trans 
action  with  which  my  friends  have  nothing  to  do." 

Then  Estelle  had  laughed  that  trying  little 
laugh  of  hers,  and  had  answered  : 

''Oh,  Ralph,  how  absurd !  such  old  friends  as 
you  and  I  ought  to  be  more  honest  with  each  other 
than  than  that.  Don't  I  know  that  everything 
connected  with  you  in  any  way  concerns  Marjorie 
Edmonds  ?  " 

Did  she  know  how  much  he  wished  that  this 
were  true  ?  Or  did  she  know  of  the  serious  break 
between  them,  and  was  she  trying  to  comfort,  or 
torture  him  ? 

He  studied  over  these  questions  after  he  got 
away  from  her,  and  could  make  nothing  of  them. 
Also,  he  studied  himself  and  tried  to  understand 
why  he  had  been  so  precipitate.  What  effect  would 
this  last  step  of  his  have  on  Marjorie  ?  Be  sure 
he  had  thought  of  her  when  he  took  it.  While  he 


140  MAKING  FATE. 

was  writing  his  note  of  acceptance  the  reckless 
mood  was  upon  him.  Marjorie  had  chosen  to  get 
angry  at  nothing  and  throw  him  over,  therefore  he 
was  not  bound  to  consult  her  wishes.  Let  her  be 
shocked  if  she  would ;  it  was  all  her  own  fault. 
But  for  her  ill-treatment,  he  would  not  have  thought 
of  such  a  thing.  He  imagined  her  trying  to  in 
dignantly  remonstrate  with  him,  and  he  gloomily 
telling  her  that  she  had  herself  to  thank  for  the 
entire  matter.  All  this  was  very  babyish,  it  must 
be  admitted,  but  Ralph,  on  occasion,  could  be 
babyish.  There  were  actually  times  when  he  ex 
ulted  in  her  dismay  and  indignation.  She  had 
brought  dismay  upon  him,  why  should  she  not  feel 
it  in  return  ?  There  were  other  moods  during 
which  he  entered  into  an  elaborate  argument  to 
convince  her  that  his  step  was  the  right  and  wise 
one.  Times  were  hard ;  nothing  could  be  done  on 
the  farm  during  the  winter  ;  his  father  was  grow 
ing  old  and  needed  help.  He  had  resolved  to 
sacrifice  himself  and  his  prospects.  There  was 
no  opening  in  the  direction  of  his  tastes  which 
promised  immediate  returns,  therefore  his  tastes 
should  be  crucified  for  the  good  of  all  concerned. 
In  that  mood  he  felt  like  a  martyr  who  had  risen 
above  the  prejudices  by  which  he  was  surrounded, 
and  therefore  deserved  a  crown. 

From  Estelle's  interview  with  Marjorie,  as  ill- 
fortune  would  have  it,  she  came  straight  to  Ralph. 
That  is,  she  saw  him  at  the  corner  and  called,  and 
of  course  he  waited  for  her.  She  was  still  uncer- 


A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  MOODS.  141 

tain  how  Marjorie  had  received  the  news  at  Ralph's 
hands  and  still  anxious  to  learn. 

"  I've  been  in  to  see  Marjorie,"  she  began  gayly. 
"  I  thought  you  might  like  to  hear  from  her.  I 
really  pity  you,  my  friend,  if  you  have  an  engage 
ment  with  her  soon,  for  I  do  not  think  she  is  in  an 
amiable  frame  of  mind.  Oh,  she  did  not  commit 
herself  to  me  ;  Marjorie  never  is  particularly  com 
municative  with  us  girls,  you  know ;  but  her 
mother  was  more  frank.  She  said  in  so  many 
words  that  she  did  not  approve  of  your  new  busi 
ness,  at  all." 

"  I  presume  she  knew  that  that  would  harm  no 
one,"  said  Ralph  in  his  very  stiffest  tone. 

And  then  Estelle  launched  forth  with  her  history 
of  the  things  that  Marjorie  did  not  say,  and  with 
the  description  of  her  face  and  manner,  which  last 
was  calculated  to  do  the  most  harm  under  the  cir 
cumstances. 

Estelle  did  not  mean  to  speak  other  than  the 
truth;  she  did  not  even  mean  to  do  mischief. 
She  liked  Marjorie  Edmonds,  but  she  liked  Ralph 
Bramlett  more ;  there  were  times  when  it  seemed 
to  her  an  angel's  work  to  save  him  from  Marjorie's 
coldness  and  hardness  if  she  could.  She  had 
taken  certain  impressions  from  Marjorie's  silence, 
and  these  impressions  she  gave  to  Ralph  for  facts. 
By  the  time  he  had  left  her  at  her  own  door, 
his  soul  was  in  a  tumult  of  indignation.  Somehow, 
he  had  gotten  the  impression,  from  what  had  been 
told  him,  that  Marjorie  posed  before  the  girls — • 


142  MAKING  FATE. 

before  this  girl,  at  least — as  one  who  owned  him 
body  and  soul ;  and  meant  to  manage  all  his  affairs 
for  him  with  a  steady  hand,  or  else  have  none  of 
him.  Was  there  ever  a  weak  man  who  was  not 
afraid  of  being  "  managed  "  by  a  woman  ?  The 
very  suggestion  put  this  one  into  a  fury,  and  he 
walked  away  resolved  upon  showing  the  whole 
Edmonds  set  that  he  was  his  own  master  and 
meant  to  be. 

Nothing  occurred  to  change  this  mood,  and  in 
the  evening  came  Marjorie's  letter.  He  received 
it  and  his  sister  Hannah's  words,  with  indignant 
eyes. 

"  Here's  a  note  from  Marjorie  ;  I  hope  she  tells 
you  what  she  thinks  of  you.  Perhaps  you  will 
care  for  her  opinion,  since  you  don't  for  any  of  your 
own  family." 

He  answered  her  angrily  that  he  knew  his  own 
business ;  and  that  to  get  no  thanks  from  any  of 
his  family  after  sacrificing  his  own  interests  for 
their  sakes  was  exactly  the  return  he  expected. 
Then  he  shut  his  door  with  a  bang,  and  sat  down 
to  read  his  letter. 

"  Dear  Ralph,"  were  the  first  words.  He  felt 
all  his  pulses  thrill  and  throb  under  their  touch. 
The  old-time,  familiar  words.  He  had  piles  of 
notes  from  her  tied  with  pink  ribbon,  the  color 
which  she  wore  so  much,  and  every  one  of  them 
began  "  Dear  Ralph."  There  was  no  word  of  re 
proach  ;  no  hint  of  any  difference  between  them. 
Apparently  she  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing. 


A   YOUNG  MAN  OF  MOODS.  143 

It  was  just  Marjorie's  sweet  bright  self  ;  brushing 
aside  as  a  thing  of  little  moment  an  absurd  rumor 
concerning  him  ;  only  stopping  to  let  him  know 
of  it,  so  that  he  might  say  the  proper  things  to 
people  in  return  for  their  folly.  What  an  unut 
terable  fool  he  had  been !  If  now  he  could  an 
swer  this  cheery  little  note  in  the  spirit  in  which 
it  was  sent ;  could  assure  her  that  he  had  not,  of 
course,  given  a  serious  thought  to  the  opportunity 
which  had  come  to  him,  because  his  principles 
would  not  admit  of  it ;  and  then  could  tell  her  in 
a  superior  and  manly  way  of  his  numerous  busi 
ness  disappointments  while  in  the  city,  and  enlarge 
upon  the  strangeness  of  "  Providence  "  in  thus 
closing  all  other  avenues  and  putting  in  his  way 
only  that  which  his  conscience  would  not  allow 
him  even  to  consider,  what  a  letter  he  could  write  ! 
He  was  fond  of  expressing  himself  on  paper,  and 
could  not  help  lingering  over  some  of  the  sentences 
which  he  might  pen,  under  other  circumstances, 
even  while  realizing  the  folly  of  them  as  he  had 
shaped  things.  What  an  opportunity  was  this  for 
saying  in  reply  to  Marjorie's  hint  that  he  had 
friends  on  Maple  Avenue,  that,  judging  from  the 
Avay  in  which  he  had  been  treated,  he  had  feared 
that  he  had  no  friends  there.  Then  he  could  en 
large  upon  the  horrors  of  that  night  when  she  was 
missed  and  searched  for  frantically  ;  and  incident 
ally  he  could  hint,  not  in  apology,  but  simpty  by 
way  of  explanation,  how  deeply  he  regretted  his 
inability  to  do  as  she  wished  that  night.  There 


144  MAK1.\G  FATE. 

were  certain  reasons  which  he  could  not  in  honor 
explain  to  her,  why  this  was  really  impossible, 
but  he  had  supposed  that  she  could  trust  him ! 
Was  there  ever  a  more  delicate  thrust  than  that? 
And  to  think  that  he  had  cut  himself  from  all 
such  possibilities !  For,  despite  the  commercial 
traveler's  logic,  and  his  own  many  arguments, 
something  assured  him  that  Marjorie  Edmonds 
and  Marjorie  Edmonds's  mother  would  not  re 
ceive  a  bookkeeper  in  a  distillery  on  the  same  foot 
ing  as  they  had  received  Ralph  Bramlett,  farmer. 
No,  not  even  if  his  salary  were  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  instead  of  fifteen  hundred.  In  time  he 
might  overcome  the  prejudices  of  the  daughter; 
his  influence  was  potent  there  ;  the  very  note  which 
he  held  in  his  hand  indicated  it;  but  the  mother 
would  discourage  that  influence,  and  would  do 
what  she  could  to  prevent  their  intimacy  ;  and  it 
would  be  a  long,  hard,  tiresome  ordeal.  If  he  had 
but  known  that  Marjorie  would  write  him  such  a 
letter  as  this,  he  would  not  have  accepted  the  po 
sition  ;  at  least  so  he  assured  himself.  What  if  he 
should  throw  it  up  even  now  ?  His  father  was 
bitterly  disappointed  in  him ;  had  told  him  he 
would  rather  starve  than  eat  bread  earned  by  a  son 
of  his  through  such  a  channel  ;  his  mother  had 
cried,  and  Hannah  had  tossed  her  head  and  said, 
The  Bramlett  name  was  honored  now  !  Suppose 
he  should  write  to  the  Snyders,  and  ask  for  his  re 
lease  on  the  ground  of  his  father's  opposition  ?  It 
would  certainly  appear  well  in  a  son,  to  show  such 


RALPH'S  LETTER. 

"  Over  this,  Marjorie  Edmonds  bowed  her  head  and  cried/ 


A   YOUNG  MAN  OF  MOODS.  145 

deference  to  the  wishes  of  his  father.  Ah,  but 
there  was  Estelle  Douglass  again !  Had  he  not 
talked  over  the*  family  opposition  with  her,  and 
assured  her  that  he  must  do  the  best  for  all  parties 
concerned,  even  though  they  reproached  instead 
of  thanked  him  ?  Would  not  Estelle,  with  her 
quick  wits,  know  that  it  was  Marjorie  who  had 
overturned  the  whole  ?  And  would  not  her  quick 
tongue  blazon  it  abroad  ?  He  should  be  a  laugh 
ing-stock  for  the  town.  A  man  in  leading  strings  ! 
It  would  never  do.  He  must  abide  by  his  promise. 
If  Marjorie  had  not  ill-treated  him,  he  would  never 
have  made  that  promise.  Under  the  sting  of  this 
thought  he  wrote  : 

"  Miss  Edmonds  seems  to  have  forgotten  that 
she  chose  to  act  as  though  the  writer  had  no  friends 
on  Maple  Avenue.  He  is  prompt  to  try  to  under 
stand  efforts  of  that  kind.  So  far  as  the  rumor 
referred  to  is  concerned,  he  expects  to  go  into  bus 
iness  for  the  firm  of  Snyc^er  and  Snyder  in  two 
days  more.  When  a  man  cannot  secure  what  he 
would,  he  must  needs  take  what  he  can  get,  and 
endure  alike  the  reproaches  of  friends  and  the 
sneers  of  enemies." 

It  was  this  letter  over  which  Marjorie  Edmonds 
bowed  her  head  that  night  and  cried.  She  had 
not  shown  it  to  her  mother;  she  could  not  endure 
the  thought  of  doing  so;  yet  her  mother  must  be 
told  how  utterly  Ralph  had  failed  her.  She  did 
not  know  that,  although  it  was  barely  three  hours 
10 


146  MAKING  FATE. 

since  the  letter  had  gone  out  of  his  possession, 
that  Ralph  Bramlett  would  have  given  his  entire 
prospective  salary,  for  the  sake  of  having  it  back 
in  his  hands,  unread. 


LIVING  BELOW  ONE'S  PRIVILEGES.        147 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LIVING  BELOW   ONE'S   PRIVILEGES. 


ANTHONY  had  transacted  one  other  piece 
of  business  during  his  day's  shopping,  about  which 
he  said  nothing  to  Glyde.  While  she  was  ab 
sorbed  over  some  "  lovely  "  Christmas  cards,  he 
slipped  back  to  the  cashier's  desk  and  carried  on  a 
low-toned  conversation  after  this  manner  : 

"  What  has  become  of  that  meeting  which  occu 
pied  your  thoughts  so  fully  a  year  ago?" 

The  cashier  turned  from  his  roll  of  bills  with  a 
winning  smile.  "  It  absorbs  me  as  much  as  ever, 
and  is  holding  its  own,  as  usual.  We  meet  to 
night  in  the  old  place.  Won't  you  come  ?  " 

"  How  many  times  have  you  asked  me  ?  "  said 
Uncle  Anthony,  returning  the  smile.  "  A  dozen 
years  or  so,  in  succession,  isn't  it  ?  But  I  never 
came  in  search  of  an  invitation  before,  did  I? 
No,  don't  rejoice  too  soon  ;  I'm  the  same  old  six 
pence,  but  I  have  a  bright  new  penny  in  my  train  ; 
a  little  girl  who  is  in  search  of  a  model  prayer- 
meeting.  We  went  to  one  of  the  up-town  churches 
the  other  night,  and  didn't  find  it,  —  the  model, 
you  understand  ;  and  she  was  so  disappointed  that 
I  thought  of  you.  I've  set  out  to  entertain  the 


148  MAKING  FATE. 

child  if  I  can ;    so  we  may  come   around  to  your 
barracks  to-night." 

It  was  because  of  this,  that  at  eight  o'clock  of  that 
wonderful  day,  Glyde  and  her  uncle  entered  the  door 
of  a  large  plain  building  which  did  not  look  like  a 
church,  just  as  the  hymn  was  being  sung  that  had 
attracted  the  attention  of  Ralph  Bramlett.  Had  he 
known  that  the  people  who  were  just  passing  in 
were  Glyde  Douglass  and  her  uncle,  perhaps,  for 
very  surprise  at  the  coincidence,  he  might  have  fol 
lowed  them.  In  that  case,  would  some  of  the  story 
of  his  life  have  been  forever  different?  Who  can 
tell?  This  was  a  prayer-meeting  very  unlike  any 
which  Glyde  had  associated  with  New  York ;  very 
unlike  anything  which  she  had  ever  seen  before. 
The  size  of  it,  her  uncle  thought,  must  satisfy  her. 
The  room  was  large,  and  was  closely  packed  with 
human  beings.  It  was  a  very  plain  room  indeed, 
not  a  bit  of  upholstery  anywhere,  nor  frescoing. 
The  walls,  which  were  as  clean  as  whitewash  could 
make  them,  were  hung  with  mottoes  that  flashed 
back  in  glowing  colors,  familiar  words  :  "  Come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest."  "  Ho !  every  one  that 
thirsteth  come  ye  to  the  waters."  "  Seek  ye  first 
the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness." 
"  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet  they  shall  be  as 
wool."  And  others  less  familiar,  at  least  to  Glyde, 
but  very  striking.  The  room  was  brightly  lighted, 
and  the  seats,  though  so  plain,  were  comfortable. 
Every  one  seemed  to  have  singing  books.  Indeed, 


LIVING  BELOW  ON  ITS  PRIVILEGES.        149 

almost  the  first  thing  Glyde  noticed  was  a  row  of 
young  men  near  the  door,  one  of  whom  darted  to 
wards  them  as  they  entered,  with  two  singing 
books  open  to  the  hymn  which  was  being  sung. 
Glyde  knew  the  hymn  and  joined  in  the  sing 
ing  almost  before  she  was  seated ;  there  was  such 
a  volume  of  song  filling  the  room  that  she  could 
not  help  singing. 

The  hour  that  followed  will  stand  out  in  her 
memory  forever.  Her  experience  with  prayer- 
meetings  was  confined  to  the  church  of  which  she 
was  a  member.  A  large,  well-appointed  church 
with  a  small  prayer-meeting,  and  a  pastor  who  was 
struggling  with  the  problem  of  how  to  make  it 
sufficiently  interesting  to  win  to  a  regular  attend 
ance  those  who  had  covenanted  to  sustain  it. 
As  yet,  this  was  an  unsolved  problem;  it  will 
describe  to  those  interested  in  prayer-meetings  the 
condition  of  things  as  fully  as  if  a  page  had  been 
written  concerning  it.  Glyde  was  used  to  decor 
ous,  proper-sounding  prayers,  in  response  to  invita 
tions  from  her  pastor.  Most  of  the  people  who 
prayed  were  more  or  less  cultured ;  at  least,  suffi 
ciently  familiar  with  the  use  of  language  to  choose 
smooth,  flowing  words,  and  to  ask  for  the  usual 
proper  things.  Glyde,  listening,  had  wondered 
how  they  ever  had  the  courage  to  offer  the  first 
prayer.  Did  they  write  it  out,  she  queried,  and 
commit  it  to  memory?  and  did  they,  by  degrees, 
add  a  word  here,  and  a  sentence  there,  until  they 
had  it  to  their  mind  ?  The  prayers  did  not  vary 


150  MAKING  FATE. 

greatly,  she  observed,  through  the  months;  cer 
tain  phrases  were  nearly  always  present ;  proper 
ones,  beautiful  ones  indeed,  meaning  a  great  deal ; 
but  Glyde  had  grown  so  used  to  them  that  some 
times  they  did  not  mean  much  to  her ;  she  had 
wondered  if  they  did  to  the  petitioners.  She  had 
rejoiced  in  the  thought  that  she  was  a  woman  and 
would  therefore  not  be  called  upon  for  such  duty ; 
for  the  various  religious  organizations  springing 
up  over  the  country  in  which  women  took  equal 
part  with  men  had  not  yet  found  favor  in  the  town 
where  she  lived.  But,  in  this  meeting,  were  men 
and  women  who  prayed  apparently  as  naturally  as 
they  breathed.  The  petitions  seemed  to  come 
from  those  who  were  just  thinking  aloud.  Very 
brief,  for  the  most  part.  Heart-cries  for  help,  for 
strength,  for  encouragement,  to  One  who  was  ex 
pected  to  understand  without  explanation,  all  the 
details.  "Lord,  help  me  to  be  true  where  thou 
hast  placed  me.  "  Lord,  I  thank  thee  for  sustain 
ing  grace  to-day."  "  Father,  I  want  to  be  faithful, 
strengthen  me."  "  Lord  Jesus,  remember  my  temp 
tations."  These  and  a  dozen  other  petitions  fol 
lowed  in  quick  succession ;  and  the  voices  of  the 
women  apparently  excited  not  the  slightest  sur 
prise  in  any  mind  but  hers.  Looking  about  her, 
during  the  next  song  service,  she  discovered  some 
of  the  faces  which  she  had  imagined  she  might  see 
in  New  York.  Men  and  women,  and  even  young 
girls,  who  looked  as  though  their  experiences  of 
life  must  have  been  far  from  satisfactory.  Still, 


LIVING  BEL OW  ONE'S  P KIVILEGES.        1 5 1 

they  were  all  decently  dressed,  and  behaved  with 
the  utmost  decorum,  so  they  could  not  be  of  the 
lowest.  It  was  an  extraordinary  mixture,  to  this 
novice,  who  yet  had  studied  faces  somewhat  and 
found  a  charm  in  doing  so.  Some  of  the  people 
were  unmistakably  from  the  cultured  world. 
Their  dress  did  not  indicate  it,  for  even  Glyde 
herself  in  her  elegant  new  sack  felt  almost  too 
fine  for  the  place,  but  there  was  an  unmistakable 
air  of  ease  and  refinement  about  them  which  had 
to  do  with  a  daily  life  quite  above  that  which 
Glyde  lived,  for  instance ;  yet  they  mingled  as 
naturally  with  these  people  and  seemed  to  be  as 
entirely  of  their  mind  as  though  they  were  brothers 
and  sisters.  It  soon  became  apparent  that  not 
only  reformed  men  were  present  but  reformed 
women  and  girls.  One,  a  girl  not  older  than 
Glyde  herself,  arose  and  said,  "  Since  I  gave  my 
self  to  God  I  have  had  peace  for  the  first  time  in 
my  sinful  life  ! "  and  the  marks  of  sin  were  so  ap 
parent  on  her  old-young  face  that  even  Glyde 
could  read.  Yet  a  lady  sitting  near,  sweet-faced, 
pure  as  a  lily,  whose  voice  when  she  sang  gave 
forth  the  exquisite  melody  of  a  highly  cultivated 
one,  turned  as  the  girl  sat  down  and  smiling  as  an 
angel  might,  clasped  the  hard  bare  hand  in  a  warm 
human  grasp  which  brought  the  tears  to  Glyde's 
eyes.  What  must  it  have  done  for  the  girl  ? 

All  over  the  room  they  arose,  as  witnesses  to 
the  power  of  God  to  save  from  the  drink  habit, 
the  gambling  habit,  and  the  curse  of  other  sins 


152  MAKING  FATE. 

too  low  in  the  scale  to  be  mentioned  ;  earnestness 
was  written  all  over  their  strong,  sin-marked  faces  ; 
earnestness  throbbed  in  their  every  word  ;  not  only 
earnestness  but  something  better  than  joy,  some 
thing  the  girl  had  expressed  by  that  word  "  peace." 

Then,  perhaps,  the  next  voice  would  be  from 
that  other,  sheltered,  cultured  world,  and  the 
face  would  indicate  purity  and  strength ;  yet  the 
witness  would  be  the  same,  the  power  of  God  to 
keep  in  peace  and  safety  from  small  temptations, 
so-called,  as  well  as  from  great  ones. 

As  Glyde  listened  and  sang  and  joined  in  the 
prayers,  her  heart  grew  warm  as  never  before  with 
the  sense  of  fellowship  in  Christ.  Surely  this 
was  a  prayer-meeting  which  her  Uncle  Anthony 
could  approve.  She  glanced  at  him  occasionally 
but  could  make  nothing  from  his  face.  He  sat  very 
still,  not  even  joining  in  the  singing,  of  which  he 
was  exceptionally  fond  ;  much  of  the  time  his  face 
was  shaded  by  his  hand.  She  could  not  be  sure 
whether  he  was  interested  or  bored.  She  did  not 
know  how  entirely  he  had  been  taken  into  his 
sweet  and  sorrowful  past.  He  used  occasionally 
to  go  with  her  aunt  Estelle  to  such  meetings,  he 
had  avoided  them  almost  fiercely  for  years  ;  only 
his  love  for  the  "  little  girl "  he  had  found,  and 
the  desire  to  please  her  in  every  way,  had  broken 
through  his  grim  resolve,  and  brought  him  again 
into  the  atmosphere  which  he  had  dreaded. 

Not  far  from  them  was  a  young  man  to  whom 
Glyde  gave  some  interested  thought.  There  was 


LIVING  BELOW  ONE'S  PRIVILEGES.         153 

something  about  him  which  made  her  think  that 
he  was  a  stranger,  like  herself.  He  watched  with 
a  certain  suppressed  eagerness  to  see  what  would 
be  done  next ;  he  listened  with  marked  intensity 
to  every  word  which  was  spoken  ;  he  joined  in  the 
singing  as  though  his  soul  were  in  it ;  yet  he  was 
from  another  class  than  most  of  the  young  men  ;  a 
gentleman  in  every  respect  Glyde  decided,  and 
one  who  had  always  lived  a  life  that  honored  his 
mother.  Was  he  a  Christian,  she  wondered  ? 
She  was  not  used  to  young  gentlemen  who  were 
Christians.  Now  that  she  thought  of  it,  she 
lived  in  a  town  where  it  did  not  seem  to  be  the 
custom  for  young  men  to  attend  prayer-meetings, 
even  the  estimable  young  men,  those  who  waited 
sometimes  at  the  church  doors  to  attend  their 
friends  home  nearly  always  waited  at  the  doors;  it 
did  not  seem  to  be  expected  that  they  would 
come  farther.  She  had  not  given  the  matter  much 
thought,  but  how  many  she  could  recall  whom 
this  state  of  things  described.  There  was  Ralph 
Bramlett,  for  instance,  who  was  an  intimate  friend 
of  their  family,  who  passed  their  house  on  his  way 
to  and  from  town,  and  often  stopped  to  chat  with 
them  ;  who  had  walked  with  them  more  than  once 
as  far  as  the  church  door  on  prayer-meeting  even 
ings,  when  they  had  chanced  to  meet.  Yet  she 
had  never  heard  the  girls  ask  him  to  go  in  to  the 
meeting,  nor  express  surprise  that  he  never  came. 
But  then,  to  be  sure,  Ralph  was  not  a  Christian, 
and  neither  was  Marjorie  Edmonds;  perhaps  if 


154  MAKING  FATE. 

she  were,  it  would  be  different  with  Ralph.  Per 
haps  if  they  were  both  in  the  habit  of  attending 
such  prayer-meetings  as  this,  they  might  be  helped 
to  enter  that  way ;  surely  they  could  not  remain 
in  such  an  atmosphere  long  without  wanting  to 
be  one  with  it.  And  then  poor  Glyde  fell  to 
wondering  where,  in  her  part  of  the  world,  such  an 
atmosphere  as  this  could  be  found.  Would  Ralph 
and  Marjorie  be  likely  to  be  helped  by  the  prayer 
meeting  which  she  was  in  the  habit  of  attending  ? 
Pity  the  girl,  and  pity  the  church  to  which  she 
belonged,  because  she  was  in  all  honesty  obliged 
to  confess  to  her  secret  soul  that  she  Avas  afraid 
they  would  not  be ;  that  it  was,  too  often,  only  a 
duty  and  a  weariness  to  her.  Then  the  young 
man  suddenly  broke  in  upon  her  train  of  thought 
by  springing  to  his  feet. 

"  Brethren,"  he  began,  "I  cannot  resist  adding 
my  word  as  a  witness.  I  am  a  stranger  in  the 
city ;  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  in  a  prayer- 
meeting  since  I  left  home ;  but  I  find  myself 
among  brothers  and  sisters,  those  who  serve  under 
the  Leader  to  whom  I  belong  ;  those  who  have  dis 
covered  for  themselves  the  power  of  God  to  save, 
and  to  keep.  Brothers,  if  some  of  you  have  not 
tried  that  power,  I  add  my  voice  to-night  to  help 
to  convince  you  of  its  reality."  Then  followed 
such  words  as  Glyde  felt  must  help  the  rows  and 
rows  of  young  men  who  listened  earnestly.  They 
helped  her.  No,  she  certainly  did  not  know  any 
young  man  like  this  one ;  she  wished  that  she  did. 


LIVING  BELOW  ONE'S  PRIVILEGES.        155 

When  the  meeting  was  concluded,  Glyde  was 
surprised  to  see  a  middle-aged  gentleman  rush  to 
ward  her  uncle  and  hold  out  his  hand. 

"  We  are  so  glad  to  see  you  here  once  more  ! " 
he  said,  "  We  have  missed  your  visits  very  much. 
Isn't  the  question  settled  yet,  brother  ?  When  I 
saw  you  to-night  my  heart  gave  a  great  leap  of 
joy  ;  I  thought  we  should  hear  from  you." 

"  Never  mind  me,"  said  Uncle  Anthony 
cheerily.  "  Give  your  attention  to  the  young  peo 
ple  ;  to  that  end,  let  me  introduce  my  niece  ;  she 
is  one  of  your  kind,  I  suspect ;  at  least  she  was 
hungering  and  thirsting  after  a  prayer-meeting." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  the  gentleman  said, 
giving  Glyde  a  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand  ;  "  now  I 
must  return  the  kindness  and  introduce  my 
nephew.  Paul,  this  way  please.  "  Mr.  Burwell, 
Miss  Douglass  ;  my  nephew  from  the  West."  And 
Glyde  found  herself  exchanging  greetings  with 
the  young  man  whose  words  had  helped  her.  He 
was  a  stranger  then,  like  herself,  and  yet  his  heart 
had  been  so  full  of  the  theme  that  he  could  not  keep 
silence.  What  if  she  had  tried  to  tell  what  Jesus 
Christ  was  to  her !  The  mere  thought  of  it  set 
all  her  pulses  to  bounding.  "  I  don't  think  I 
could  have  done  it ; "  she  told  herself  sorrowfully, 
"  and  yet  I  do  love  Him  and  I  want  to  be  His  wit 
ness." 

Just  behind  her  stood  a  young  girl  who  had 
prayed,  and  spoken  a  few  words.  Glyde  remem 
bered  the  words  :  "  To-day,  under  strong  tempta- 


156  MAKING  FATE. 

tion  to  anger,  my  heart  trusted  in  Him,  and  I  was 
helped."  She  was  a  plain,  common-looking  girl  in 
coarse  dress,  and  without  any  gloves  at  all ;  yet 
Glyde  gazed  upon  her  with  a  feeling  of  respect 
almost  amounting  to  awe.  How  wonderful  that 
she  could  stand  and  say  quietly  such  words  in  a 
prayer-meeting.  Nay,  how  wonderful  to  be  able 
to  say  them  at  all.  To  be  sure  of  having  been 
helped  in  her  common-place  daily  life  by  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ ! 

They  passed  out  into  the  street  together ;  her 
uncle  and  the  elder  Mr.  Burwell,  who  were  evi 
dently  old  acquaintances,  were  talking  earnestly. 
Naturally  Mr.  Paul  Burwell  dropped  back  beside 
her. 

"  It  was  good  to  be  there,  was  it  not  ?  "  he  said. 
"  I  have  been  half  tempted  to  be  homesick  In  this 
great  city ;  but  this  evening  I  found  myself  at 
home." 

Said  Gtyde,  "  How  many  men  there  were  who 
seemed  to  have  sorely  needed  help  and  found  it." 

"  Yes,  indeed !  Reformed  men  ;  a  large  numbei 
of  them ;  and  reformed  women.  Did  you  notice 
the  woman  on  your  left,  three  or  four  seats  down  ? 
My  uncle  says  she  has  been  a  terrible  character ; 
one  of  the  most  to  be  feared  in  the  city,  perhaps- 
because  of  her  influence  over  younger  ones.  Five 
months  ago  Christ  won  her ;  and  now  she  is  a 
power  in  that  meeting  and  in  her  neighborhood. 
Isn't  it  a  blessed  thought,  Miss  Douglass,  that  we 
have  never  yet  heard  testimony  like  this:  'I  cried 


LIVING  BELOW  ONE'S  PRIVILEGES.        157 

unto  the  Lord  and  he  would  not  answer.  I  plead 
for  help  and  received  none.'  " 

"Do  you  suppose  there  is  never  such  testi 
mony  ?  "  asked  Glyde,  slowly,  wonderingly.  She 
did  not  know  how  to  converse  about  religion  ;  she 
felt  embarrassed  at  the  thought  of  trying  to  do  so; 
but  she  must  be  honest.  Not  even  for  the  sake  of 
appearances  would  she  pretend  by  silence  or  eva 
sive  answer,  that  prayer  was  to  her  what  it  seemed 
to  be  to  those  people. 

"  I  mean,"  she  explained,  "  do  not  people  often, 
or  at  least  sometimes  pray,  and  receive  no 
answer  ?  " 

"  People  who  are  in  need,  and  who  feel  their 
need  and  cry  to  Him  for  help  ?  No.  How  could 
they?  He  cannot  deny  Himself.  Hasn't  He  prom 
ised  ?  Oh,  we  often  pray,  I  presume,  for  what  He 
will  not  for  our  own  sakes  give  us  ;  and  we  often 
pray  for  that  which  we  do  not  with  all  our  hearts 
desire ;  but  I  mean  cases  oifelt  need  such  as  were 
represented  there  to-night.  To  all*such,  I  think, 
He  has  said :  "  Before  they  call  I  will  answer ; 
and  while  they  are  yet  speaking  I  will  hear. 
Pardon  me,  Miss  Douglass,  but  do  you  not  know 
the  truth  of  this  from  your  own  experience  ?  " 

"  I— think  so  ;  "  she  said  thoughtfully.  "  At 
least  I  mean  I  hope  I  know  Him  in  that  sense.  In 
fact  I  know  I  do.  I  belong  to  Him,  Mr.  Burwell, 
and  there  are  some  ways  in  which  I  could  have 
witnessed  for  Him  if  I  only  had  the  courage.  But 
I  do  not  think  I  can  speak  so  positively  as  I  could, 


158  MAKING  FATE. 

— last  winter  for  instance,  and  as  I  thought  then, 
I  always  should.  To  be  entirely  frank,  I  have  a 
half  dissatisfied  feeling  over  my  religion  a  great 
deal  of  the  time  ;  and  yet  I  would  not  be  without 
it;  but  someway  I  want  it  to  be  more  to  me  than 
it  is.  I  do  not  suppose  I  am  making  myself  un 
derstood  ;  and  I  do  not  know  why  I  am  speaking 
in  this  way  to  a  stranger." 

"  I  understand  you,  perfectly.  We  are  not 
strangers  ;  we  both  claim  the  Elder  Brother  as  our 
own.  Will  you  forgive  me  for  suggesting  that 
perhaps  you  are  trying  to  be  satisfied  with  less 
than  He  can  give  ?  When  I  first  united  with  the 
church,  I  tried  to  content  myself  with  living  as 
others  did  around  me  ;  and  as  it  was  a  cold  church, 
one  in  which  the  young  people  met  often  socially 
without  saying  a  word  about  their  Leader,  or 
hinting  in  any  way  that  they  had  a  Leader  to 
whom  they  were  glad  to  give  supreme  control,  you 
can  imagine  the  result.  I  was  dissatisfied,  discon 
tented,  half-hearted,  and  a  good  deal  of  the  time 
miserable.  When  I  found, — some  time  afterward — 
that  Christ  was  willing  to  be  a  centre  around  which 
my  business  and  my  pleasures  as  well  as  my  hours 
of  direct  service  could  gather,  and  that  to  accept 
him  as  the  literal  centre  of  all  my  time,  was  the 
only  way  to  be  a  happy  Christian,  I  really  think  I 
was  glad  of  it ;  for  I  had  been  having  a  most  un 
happy  time  ;  because  in  some  way  my  convictions 
had  gotten  ahead  of  my  practice." 

This  was  strange  new  talk  to  Glyde  ;  yet  her 


LIVING  BELOW  ONE'S  PRIVILEGES.         159 

heart  went  out  to  meet  it.  She  felt  that  it  was 
true.  She  had  been  trying  to  be  satisfied  to  do  as 
Estelle  and  Fannie  and  the  other  girls  who  were 
church  members,  did.  So  far  as  outward  life  was 
concerned  she  had  done  as  they  did.  When  had 
she  spoken  with  any  person  about  Jesus  Christ  ? 
How  did  she  make  it  known  to  anybody  that  he 
was  the  one  who  had  supreme  control  ?  She  had 
wished  quite  earnestly  that  Ralph  Bramlett  and 
Marjorie  were  Christians,  and  had  prayed  for 
them  both  ;  but — had  she  ever  in  any  way  hinted 
to  either  of  them  that  she  cared  whether  they 
knew  Christ  or  not  ?  Why  had  she  not  ?  Was 
it  not  because  others  did  not  talk  about  these 
things,  and  she  did  not  like  to  seem  so  different 
from  others  ? 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  she  said  impulsively, 
speaking  hastily  as  she  saw  that  her  uncle  and  his 
friend  had  halted  at  the  corner  just  ahead,  and 
were  evidently  planning  to  take  different  routes. 
k%  I  have  been  willing  to  stay  below  my  privileges. 
In  fact,  I  think  I  never  realized  what  my  privi 
leges  were  until  to-night.  I  believe  it  will  be  dif 
ferent  with  me  hereafter  because  of  your  words. 
Thank  you." 


160  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XIV, 

A   LOOK   BACKWARD   AND   FORWARD. 

MAJORIE  EDMONDS  sat  long  that  night,  confront 
ing  her  problem.  She  kept  faith  with  her  mother 
and  opened  the  door  between  the  rooms  when  she 
was  ready  for  bed,  but  the  watchful  mother  knew 
that  this  time  did  not  come  until  the  night  was 
far  spent.  The  girl  made  no  record  in  her  diary. 
It  is  noticeable  that,  with  young  people,  diaries  are 
for  happy  hours.  When  grave  and  desolating 
questions  press  down  upon  them,  they  want  better 
confidants  than  those. 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  this  young  girl 
faced  the  situation  as  it  was,  and  tried  to  under 
stand  it.  Ralph  Bramlett  had  failed  her  ;  that 
was  too  evident.  The  playmate  of  her  childhood 
whom  she  had  alternately  commanded  and  petted, 
the  schoolmate  of  her  girlhood  whom  she  had  held 
to  a  high  standard  in  his  classes  by  the  spirit  of 
emulation,  the  young  man  whose  development  she 
had  watched  with  delight  and  a  secret  sense  of 
ownership  such  as  she  felt  sure  no  other  human 
being  could  feel,  had  in  the  space  of  a  few  weeks 
so  changed  that  he  could  write  her  the  letter  which 
was  spread  open  before  her,  and  which  she  had 


A  LOOK  BACKWARD  ANT)  FORWARD.       161 

read  until  it  seemed  as  though  every  word  was 
engraved  upon  her  heart.  It  was  an  utter  be 
wilderment  to  her.  In  all  her  curious  question 
ings  concerning  her  future  there  had  never  for 
one  moment  come  to  her  a  thought  of  it  as  sepa 
rated  from  Ralph  Bramlett.  Had  she  then  ex 
pected  to  become  the  wife  of  a  man  who  had 
never  so  much  as  mentioned  the  subject  of  mar 
riage  to  her  ?  She  blushed  painfully  as  she  asked 
herself  this  question.  Her  thoughts  of  the  future 
had  all  been  girlish,  even  childish ;  she  had  not  con 
sidered  the  questions  of  love  and  marriage  ;  there 
had  simply  been  a  rose-colored  stretch  of  years  in 
which  she  and  Ralph,  and  mother,  walked  gayly 
down  the  paths,  always  together,  and  always 
happy.  But  now  that  she  had  suddenly  become  a 
woman,  she  reminded  herself  that  although  Ralph 
had  never  mentioned  the  subject  of  marriage  to 
her,  yet  she  had  a  woman's  right  to  think  of  him 
as  her  future  husband.  Had  he  not  shown  her  in 
every  possible  way,  ever  since  she  was  a  child,  that 
she  was  always  first  in  his  thoughts  ?  Since  child 
hood  had  been  left  in  the  distance  and  they  had 
been  looked  upon  by  others  as  grown  people,  had 
not  his  attentions  become  if  possible  more  marked 
than  ever,  until  everybody  who  knew  them  said 
"  Ralph  and  Marjorie  "  as  naturally  as  though  they 
were  indeed  of  one  name  ?  She  took  herself 
sternly  to  task  for  her  blushing.  She  had  the 
right  to  claim  him.  Not  that  she  was  by  any  means 
in  haste  to  be  married,  she  told  herself,  or  had 
ii 


162  MAKING  FATE. 

ever  given  a  serious  thought  in  her  life  to  that 
phase  of  the  question ;  it  was  only  that  of  course 
they  were  to  be  together  in  some  way,  and  to  be 
always  more  to  each  other  than  to  any  other  per 
sons  ;  that  being  the  case,  she  must  have  known, 
she  assured  herself,  that  there  was  but  one  way  of 
accomplishing  it.  But  there  was  no  occasion  for 
feeling  humiliated  over  such  a  thought,  for  if  any 
body  had  been  sought,  she  could  truly  say  that  she 
had.  The  question  for  consideration  was,  what 
did  Ralph's  present  conduct  indicate  ?  Had  he 
been  simply  playing  with  her  all  these  years  ?  That 
was  nonsense !  Had  he  been  disappointed  in  her, 
or  mistaken  in  his  feelings  ?  Was  it  only  as  a  boy 
that  he  cared  for  her,  and  when  he  began  to  call 
himself  a  man  had  lie  found  that  she  did  not  satisfy 
his  nature  ?  That  must  be  the  explanation  of  his 
strange  conduct.  It  was  folly  for  her  to  try  longer 
to  deceive  herself  and  say  that  she  had  ill-treated 
him  ;  it  is  one  thing  to  speak  coldly  to  a  man  who 
has  been  rude  to  one,  and  quite  another  for  that 
man  to  answer  a  note  written  with  the  old-time 
friendliness  in  the  heartless  way  in  which  Ralph 
had  answered  her. 

"  Miss  Edmonds,"  indeed  !  why  he  had  never 
before  called  her  that !  But  more  and  infinitely 
worse  than  all  these  small  matters  was  the  fact, 
placed  on  paper  by  himself,  and  staring  her  in  the 
face,  that  he  had  gone  directly  contrary  not  only, 
to  her  ideas  of  honor,  but  to  what  she  had  sup 
posed  were  his  convictions  of  right.  Ralph 


A  LOOK  BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD.       163 

Bramlett  bookkeeper  in  a  distillery  !  The  thing 
seemed  so  incredible  that  she  found  herself  look 
ing  again  at  the  letter  to  make  sure  that  those 
were  the  words  written  thereon.  Was  there  not 
some  reading  "  between  the  lines  "  to  prove  that 
this  was  a  horrid  joke  ?  In  truth,  it  was  a  night 
which  might  well  make  a  vivid  impress  upon 
Marjorie  Edmonds's  memory.  Such  a  night  of 
disappointment,  and  pain,  and  searching,  and  sur 
render  as  she  had  never  before  endured.  It  came 
to  her  at  last,  and  came  overwhelmingly,  that  she 
must  give  up  this  friend  of  her  childhood  and 
womanhood ;  that  all  the  pleasant  days  they  had 
spent  together  were  past,  and  all  the  pleasant 
days  which  were  planned  for  the  future,  were 
not  to  be.  Ralph  was  strangely,  mysteriously 
changed  ;  henceforth  she  was  to  be  to  him  "  Miss 
Edmonds,"  and  she  must  learn  to  call  him  "  Mr. 
Bramlett."  This  girl  of  nineteen,  who  understood 
life  as  little  as  she  did  her  own  heart,  felt  never 
theless,  as  real  a  pang  over  the  breaking  of  her 
idol,  and  the  tearing  away  of  all  the  pretty  fabric 
of  her  imagined  future,  as  though  they  had  been 
worth  the  sorrow.  Yet  she  resolutely  tore  them 
away.  She  had  made  all  the  concessions  and  ad 
vances  that  she  could;  more  than  she  ought, 
perhaps.  It  might  be  that  Ralph  had  been  annoyed 
by  her  writing  to  him  in  the  old  familiar  way. 
That  very  act  might  even  have  helped  to  show 
him  how  mistaken  he  had  been  in  her.  Nay,  lie 
might  have  planned  his  whole  conduct  with  a  view 


164  MAKING  FATE. 

to  making  plain  to  her  his  changed  feelings ;  and 
she  in  her  ignorance  had  not  thought  of  such  a 
thing ;  but  had  credited  him  with  obstinacy,  and 
an  overweening  fear  of  silly  tongues.  Then,  sud 
denly,  there  flashed  upon  her  another  thought ; 
perhaps,  after  all,  Ralph  did  not  fear  Estelle 
Douglass  as  much  as  she  had  imagined.  Per 
haps,  instead,  he  admired  her.  They  had  talked 
freely  together  over  her  shortcomings  in  the  past ; 
but  the  past  was  ever  so  long  ago, — ages  ago  it 
seemed  to  this  poor  girl, — Ralph  had  changed  in 
other  respects,  why  not  in  that  one  ? 

The  longer  she  considered  it,  the  more  she  felt 
this  to  be  the  solution ;  Ralph  had  discovered  that 
Estelle  Douglass  was  to  be  the  friend  of  his  ma- 
turer  years.  Then  pride  came  to  her  rescue.  If 
such  were  really  the  case,  he  need  not  fear  any  in 
terference  on  her  part.  She  began  to  feel  bitterly 
humiliated  over  the  thought  of  her  note  to  him. 
Why  had  she  not  listened  to  her  mother  when  she 
hinted  that  Ralph  might  misunderstand  her  writ 
ing  ?  It  is  true  the  mother  had  meant  nothing  of 
this  kind,  but  Marjorie's  nerves  were  in  a  state  to 
so  translate  it.  Having  settled  that  she  had  dis 
covered  at  last  the  true  cause  of  the  change  in 
Ralph,  a  dozen  questions  came  up  at  once  for  con 
sideration.  How  should  she  plan  her  immediate 
future  with  regard  to  this  lost  friend  ?  Should 
she  gather  all  the  notes  and  letters,  literally  hun 
dreds  of  them,  which  had  accumulated  through  the 
years — for  when  people  are  two  miles  apart  and 


A  LOOK  BACKWARD  AND  FOUWARD.       165 

like  to  write,  many  excuses  can  be  found  for 
notes — and,  packing  them  all,  tied  in  pink  ribbons 
as  they  were,  in  a  neat  box,  together  with  the 
little  keepsakes  which  had  come  as  birthday  and 
Christmas  offerings,  send  them  to  him  ?  With  this 
thought  in  view  she  brought  out  the  box  and  began 
to  look  over  its  contents. 

How  amused  her  mother  had  been,  away  back 
in  her  childhood  when  she  had  assured  her  that 
she  was  going  to  keep  every  note  of  Ralph's  !  Her 
cheeks  burned  over  the  memory  of  the  words  she  had 
spoken  in  her  babyhood.  "  Mamma,  when  I  am  an 
old  woman,  and  Ralph  is  an  old  man — won't  it 
be  funny,  mamma,  for  us  to  be  old? — then  we 
shall  like  to  sit  together  and  look  over  these  letters, 
won't  we  ?  Here  is  one  that  tells  about  our  first 
birthday  party  that  we  had  together.  Isn't  it  nice 
that  our  birthdays  are  only  a  week  apart  and  we 
can  always  celebrate  them  together  ?  And  here 
is  one  about  our  picnic  that  we  got  up.  How 
funny  it  will  be,  when  our  hairs  are  white,  to  read 
them  over  and  remember  all  the  nice  times  we 
had." 

In  the  solitude  of  her  own  room  she  felt  the  hot 
blood  mounting  to  her  temples  over  these  mem 
ories  as  they  came  surging  back  upon  her.  Then 
her  face  began  to  pale  and  her  heart  to  tremble 
over  the  thought  that  their  future,  hers  and  Ralph's, 
sitting  together  reading  letters  would  never  come. 
Instead,  Ralph  would  sit  in  that  large  arm-chair 
she  had  imagined,  with  his  white  head  leaning 


166  MAKING  FATE. 

against  the  cushions,  and  Estelle  beside  him,  talk 
ing  over  together  the  plans  that  they  two  had 
formed ;  and  Marjorie  would  be  left  out  and  for 
gotten  ! 

Finally  she  decided  that  the  letters  and  the 
keepsakes  should  not  be  returned  ;  that  would 
look  as  though  she  had  made  serious  business  of 
them,  and  Ralph  Bramlett  was  never  to  know 
that  she  had  made  serious  business  of  anything 
that  he  had  ever  said  to  her.  That  should  be  her 
role  for  the  future  ;  boy-and-girl  friends  she  and 
Ralph  had  been  ;  nothing  more;  both  had  grown  up 
now ;  it  was  time  to  put  childish  things  away  ;  both 
had  put  them  away;  that  was  all.  Never  mind  if 
her  heart  broke  in  the  process  ;  no  one  should  know 
it.  Even  her  mother  must  never  imagine  what  she 
had  suffered  in  putting  away  her  childhood  dream. 
"  Boy-and-girl  friendship,"  the  mother  had  called 
it,  and  that  it  must  remain  to  her.  Poor  foolish 
child  !  Little  she  understood  what  a  mother's 
eyes  and  heart  can  read. 

That  good  woman,  with  her  head  resting  on  her 
pillow,  was  fully  as  wakeful  as  her  daughter,  and 
her  thoughts  were  quite  as  busy  and  anxious. 
Could  she  have  known  what  decision  that  daughter 
had  reached,  she  might  almost  have  gone  peace 
fully  to  sleep.  What  she  feared  was  the  re 
newal  of  old  friendship,  upon  a  new  basis  ;  a  basis 
which  both  the  young  people  would  understand  as 
having  to  do  with  a  settled  future.  Not  that  she 
believed  it  possible  that  Marjorie  Edmonds  would 


A  LOOK  BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD.       167 

ever  submit  to  becoming  the  wife  of  a  man  em 
ployed  in  a  distillery  ;  her  temperance  principles 
were  too  ingrained  for  that ;  the  danger  was, 
that  Marjorie's  stronger  will  would  assert  itself, 
and  that  Ralph  would  speedily  find  some  way  out 
of  the  business  engagement  which  he  had  made, 
and  that  all  differences  would  be  smoothed  over. 
And  then  this  woman  also  took  a  journey  into  the 
past,  and  remembered  ho\v  amused  she  had  been 
over  Ralph  and  Marjorie  in  their  childish  devoted- 
ness  to  each  other  ;  how  she  had  laughed  with  her 
neighbors  about  their  friendship;  how  she  had 
petted  the  two  almost  equally  through  their 
period  of  early  youth,  and  only  lately  had  begun 
to  be  anxious  over  the  natural  results  of  such 
bringing  up.  If  she  had  it  to  live  over  again, 
this  life,  how  differently  she  would  order  all  things. 
Then  she  moralized  a  little.  What  a  pity  it  was 
that  people  could  not  go  back  over  their  lives, 
just  once,  after  their  eyes  had  been  opened  to 
their  mistakes.  What  different  experiences  they 
could  make  possible  ! 

So,  for  these  various  reasons,  it  was  quite  the 
beginning  of  a  new  day  before  sleep  came  to  the 
Edmonds's  home. 

Notwithstanding  Marjorie's  resolve  that  her 
mother  should  know  nothing  about  the  changed  con 
dition  of  things,  before  evening  of  the  next  day  she 
had  shown  her  Ralph  Bramlett's  note.  Whatever 
Mrs.  Edmonds's  mistakes  as  a  mother  may  have 
been,  she  had  succeeded  in  establishing  and  main- 


1<>*  MAKING  FATE. 

taining  the  most  perfect  intimacy  between  her 
daughter  and  herself ;  and  for  Marjorie  to  hide 
from  view  such  a  letter  as  that  was  to  act  in  direct 
contradiction  to  the  principles  in  which  she  had 
been  reared.  Her  first  intention  had  been  to  say 
to  her  mother  that  her  letter  had  been  answered, 
and  that  the  answer  was  not  satisfactory,  and 
keep  the  details  of  that  answer  to  herself  ;  but  be* 
fore  evening  she  had  decided  that  this  would  be 
treating  her  mother  with  injustice  and  dis 
courtesy  ;  so  she  gave  her  the  letter  without  com 
ment,  and  waited  in  silence  while  it  was  being 
read.  It  was  so  different  from  the  letter  which 
Mrs.  Edmonds  had  schooled  her  heart  to  expect 
and  astonished  her  so,  that  for  some  moments  she 
was  entirely  silent ;  feeling  unable  to  decide  how 
to  meet  such  a  revelation.  At  last  she  asked 
almost  timidly, 

"  What  do  you  make  of  this,  daughter?" 

The  daughter  had  expected  a  burst  of  indig 
nation,  which,  in  attempting  to  overcome,  would 
almost  oblige  her  to  take  Ralph's  part.  It  was 
harder  to  meet  this  quiet  question. 

"  There  seems  to  be  but  one  explanation' possi 
ble,"  she  said  at  last;  "  Ralph  is  evidently  tired 
of  our  friendship  and  has  taken  this  way  of  bring 
ing  it  to  an  end." 

"  He  takes  an  unnecessarily  troublesome  and 
disagreeable  "way,  then  !  "  said  Mrs.  Edmonds,  wax 
ing  indignant  over  the  realization  of  what  such  an 
admission  as  this  must  mean  to  her  daughter. 


A  LOOK  BACKWARD  AND  FOEWARD.      169 

Yet  despite  the  indignation  there  was  an  under 
tone  of  intense  joy.  What  a  merciful  interposi 
tion  of  Providence  it  would  seem  if  Ralph  would, 
with  his  own  rash  hand,  break  the  ties  which  had 
bound  him  to  her  child  ;  break  them  so  utterly 
that  there  need  be  no  fear  of  their  ever  being 
fastened  again.  It  meant  present  suffering  for 
Marjorie,  of  course  ;  that  was  part  of  the  penalty 
which  she,  the  mother,  must  bear  for  her  folly ; 
but  that  the  suffering  could  be  very  deep  or  very 
lasting  the  mother  did  not  believe.  She  was  an 
older  student  of  human  nature  than  her  daughter, 
and  she  was  unalterably  sure  that  Ralph  Bramlett 
would  never  have  satisfied  that  daughter's  maturer 
heart.  Still,  she  could  afford  to  be  indignant  with 
Ralph  for  his  way  of  managing. 

"I  thought,"  she  added,  seeing  that  Marjorie 
kept  silent,  u  that  he  could,  as  a  rule,  be  gentle 
manly,  but  he  seems  to  have  lost  every  semblance 
of  a  gentleman.  I  admire  your  self-control,  Mar 
jorie,  in  being  able  to  be  so  quiet  over  such  a 
letter  as  that,  in  reply  to  the  extremely  kind  one 
which  you  wrote  to  him.  Yet  I  cannot  but  be 
glad  that  you  have  received  it.  Do  you  not  see, 
dear,  how  different  his  character  is  from  that 
which  you  have  imagined  it?  What  I  have  for 
some  time  been  aware  of  must  be  beginning  to 
be  plain  to  you." 

"Nothing  is  plain  to  me,"  said  Marjorie,  "save 
that  the  old  friendship  is  broken.  I  have  not 
understood  Ralph,  that  is  all.  I  supposed  that  his 


170  MAKING  FATE. 

conduct  of  late,  was  simply  the  result  of  a  passing 
vexation  ;  instead  of  which,  he  is  evidently  tired 
of  me.  Yet,  after  all,  I  presume  I  have  brought 
this  upon  myself.  It  certainly  was  very  rude  and 
disagreeable  in  me  to  march  away  alone  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  night,  and  not  only  give  them  all  such 
a  fright,  but  expose  him  to  the  ridicule  that  he 
must  have  had  to  bear  ever  since, — for  my  sake.  I 
did  not  think  fora  moment  of  his  side  of  the  ques 
tion,  or  I  would  not  have  done  it.  It  was  only 
you,  mamma,  that  I  thought  about,  and  planned  for. 
Bat  the  whole  thing  exposed  him  to  unnecessary 
and  disagreeable  experiences  such  as  I  did  not  in 
the  least  realize  until  I  heard  Estelle  go  on  about 
it.  Perhaps  it  is  not  strange  that  he  has  decided 
that  my  friendship  is  not  worth  having." 

She  was  blaming  herself  altogether ;  the  next 
thing  would  be  a  humble  apology  to  Ralph  and 
a  meek  acceptance  of  perhaps  even  the  distillery  ! 
The  mother  could  not  endure  it. 

"  Marjorie,"  she  said  after  a  moment's  silence, 
and  the  change  in  her  voice  made  the  daughter 
feel  that  something  very  serious  must  be  coming. 
"  Do  you  not  think  that  that  is  a  very  childish  way 
of  looking  at  the  whole  matter  ?  Too  childish  for 
one  of  your  years  ?  A  mere  difference  of  opinion 
between  two  persons,  leading  each  to  choose  his 
or  her  own  way  of  managing  a  matter,  while  it  may 
be  unpleasant,  has  no  very  lasting  results  with  sen 
sible  people.  If  Ralph  Bramlett  really  valued  your 
friendship  at  any  time,  and  was  worthy  of  it,  he 


A  LOOK  BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD.       171 

would  not  have  broken  with  you  on  such  slight 
provocation.  Would  he?" 

"  I  told  you,  mamma,"  said  Marjorie  trying  not 
to  let  her  voice  tremble,  "  that  I  thought  he  had 
grown  tired  of  me  and  took  this  way  of  making  it 
known." 

"  And  I  think  nothing  of  the  kind,"  said  Mrs. 
Edmonds,  her  indignation  rising  uncontrollably. 
"  What  I  think  and  believe  is,  that  he  is  a  con 
ceited,  self-indulgent,  obstinate,  passionate  boy, 
who  thinks  to  bring  you  to  humiliating  terms, 
by  holding  aloof  from  you  and  nursing  his  ill 
temper,  until  you  realize  how  serious  a  matter  a 
difference  with  him  can  be.  It  was  this  in  part 
which  led  him  to  accept  a  position  which  he  knew 
would  be  utterly  obnoxious  not  only  to  you,  but 
to  your  mother.  He  expects  you  to  write  him,  in 
reply  to  this,  a  heart-breaking  letter  assuring  him 
of  your  undying  friendship,  and  your  willingness 
to  continue  the  friendship  even  though  he  become 
a  rumseller.  Do  you  really  think,  Marjorie,  that 
a  young  man  capable  of  acting  as  he  has,  and  with 
the  motives  which  have  evidently  actuated  him,  is 
worthy  of  your  friendship?"  For  your  mother's 
sake,  my  dear,  if  not  for  your  own,  I  hope  you  will 
break  with  him  utterly  now;  let  him  understand 
distinctly  that  he  cannot  play  revengefully  with  a 
girl  of  your  character." 

She  was  saying  a  great  deal  more  than  she  had 
meant  to  when  she  began.  She  was  conscious  that 
she  was  overdoing  the  matter ;  doing  mischief 


172  MAKING  FATE. 

perhaps  for  her  own  cause ;  yet  she  seemed  unable 
to  resist  this  temptation  to  express  herself  freely 
for  once,  with  regard  to  Ralph  Bramlett's  character. 

But  Marjorie  took  it  all  quietly  enough  ;  perhaps 
because  she  did  not  believe  a  word  of  it;  but 
thought  that  her  mother  was  misjudging  Ralph 
with  almost  every  sentence.  She  did  not  feel  re 
vengeful  herself;  only  humble  and  sorrowful. 
Ralph  was  disappointed  in  her  and  had  cast  her 
aside;  that  she  believed  was  the  plain  fact.  It  was 
bitter  enough,  but  she  did  not  want  any  one  to 
know  it.  If  it  would  comfort  her  mother  to  feel 
that  he  had  not  cast  her  off,  but  was  waiting  and 
hoping  to  hear  from  her  again,  she  might  get  what 
relief  she  could  out  of  the  thought ;  it  brought 
none  to  Marjorie. 

Mrs.  Edmonds's  outburst  had  one  unfortunate 
effect ;  there  was  less  sympathy  between  mother 
and  daughter  than  ever  before.  Each  retired  to 
her  room  that  night  with  a  sense  of  loneliness  such 
as  never  had  come  to  them  since  they  had  been 
lonely  together. 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  173 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  SURPRISING  DECISION. 

GLYDE  DOUGLASS  was  at  home  again,  with  her 
wonderful  story  to  tell,  and  her  wonderful  gifts  to 
display  ;  she.  had  not  spent  that  two  dollars  after  all. 
Uncle  Anthony  had  counseled  her  to  keep  it  for 
ever  as  a  souvenir, — as  a  curiosity  ;  to  prove  that 
one  girl  could  spend  two  weeks  in  New  York  arid 
come  home  again  with  money  in  her  pocket.  The 
gifts  he  had  hought  he  assured  her  were  her  own 
tokens,  to  be  presented  by  herself.  To  this  end  he 
had  carefully  boxed,  and  marked  each  individual 
article  with  her  full  name,  and  he  got  into  such 
a  hurry  at  last  that  he  waited  only  to  see  her  safely 
off  the  cars  at  her  own  station,  then  sprang  back 
again  and  continued  his  journey  westward.  Truth 
to  tell,  he  had  overstayed  the  extreme  limit  of  his 
time  in  order  to  give  Glyde  as  much  of  an  outing 
as  possible.  His  visit,  he  told  her,  could  afford  to 
wait  until  next  year. 

Never  had  a  home-coming  in  the  Douglass  family 
made  more  of  a  stir.  During  the  days  of  her  ab 
sence  it  had  been  discovered  that  Glyde  was  really 
an  important  person.  Every  member  of  the  family 
had  been  so  accustomed  to  having  her  to  appeal  to 


174  MAKING  FATE 

for  assistance  on  all  possible  occasions,  that  to  miss 
her  presence  and  help  was  a  revelation.  Not  one 
of  them  had  realized,  before,  how  helpful  she  was. 
They  welcomed  the  old  Glyde  with  open  arms. 
But  the  girl  who  came  back  to  them  was  in  a 
certain  sense  a  new  Glyde.  A  day  or  two  after 
her  return,  Estelle  found  herself  looking  at  her 
sister  curiously.  Certainly  she  was  changed ;  an 
indefinable  something  was  there,  which  Estelle,  at 
least,  had  never  before  discovered.  Was  it  self- 
assertion  ?  But  Glyde  had  never  been  sweeter  or 
more  unselfish.  It  could  not  be  her  dress  entirely, 
though  there  was  change  enough  about  that. 
Uncle  Anthony  had  not  contented  himself  with 
the  stylish  sack  ;  before  the  first  Sabbath  which 
they  spent  in  New  York  had  arrived,  he  had  dis 
covered  a  ready-made  dress  which  was  exactly  to 
his  mind,  and  which  he  said  matched  the  sack ; 
despite  Glyde's  earnest  protests  and  explanations, 
he  forced  her  to  try  it  on,  and  to  admit  that  the  fit 
was  perfect.  Then  he  ordered  it  sent  to  their 
hotel  in  triumph.  After  that  there  were  gloves, 
and  handkerchiefs,  and  a  cunning  little  mnff ; 
things  which  he  continually  explained  belonged 
to  the  sack  and  felt  lonesome  away  from  it.  There 
was  a  hat,  with  a  plume  which  was  exactly  the 
shade  of  the  muff.  In  short,  Uncle  Anthony  could 
not  be  restrained  until  his  "  little  girl's  "  wardrobe 
had  undergone  entire  transformation.  When  she 
was  attired  in  her  new  suit,  with  the  fifteen  dollar 
pin  fastening  the  bit  of  lace  at  her  throat,  the  re- 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  175 

flection  which  the  girl's  mirror  gave  back  must 
certainly  have  pleased  her  artistic  eye.  Yet 
strangely  enough,  at  that  moment  she  thought  of 
the  girl  in  the  coarse  dress  and  gloveless  hands  who 
had  told  in  the  meeting  about  being  kept  from  the 
temptation  to  anger.  Why  should  Glyde  Dou 
glass  have  so  much,  and  that  girl  so  little  ?  She 
said  something  of  the  sort  to  her  uncle,  but  he 
turned  it  aside  with  one  of  his  gay  replies  : 

"  I  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  that  girl, 
and  much  with  this  one.  For  once  in  my  life  I 
mean  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  dressed 
according  to  my  fancy,  even  though  some  girl, 
whom  I  never  saw,  goes  without  new  shoe-strings 
in  consequence." 

But  this  thought,  and  many  others  which  were 
new  to  her,  lingered  with  Glyde  after  her  home 
coming.  Especially  did  the  influence  of  that 
prayer-meeting,  and  the  talk  she  had  had  with 
Paul  Burwell  linger.  They  had  -to  do  with  the 
subtle  difference  in  her  which  every  member  of 
her  family  noticed. 

She  was  alone  one  evening  in  the  little  room 
which  opened  from  the  parlor,  and  which  was  dig 
nified  by  the  name  of  music-room.  In  the  parlor 
was  Ralph  Bramwell,  waiting  for  Estelle,  who  was 
to  accompany  him  to  a  lecture.  Glyde  was  busy 
with  the  music,  assorting,  rearranging,  trying  to 
bring  order  out  of  the  confusion  which  was  always 
to  be  found  about  the  piano  after  a  stormy  day, 
during  which  the  girls  amused  themselves  more 


176  MAKING  FATE. 

with  music  than  at  other  times.  As  she  worked, 
she  hummed  a  familiar  tune  that  lingered  pleas 
antly  in  her  thoughts.  It  was  the  one  which  was 
being  sung  when  she  and  her  uncle  entered  that 
large  plain  room  every  corner  of  which  was  photo 
graphed  on  her  memory.  She  was  not  conscious 
that  she  was  humming,  until  the  curtains  suddenly 
parted  and  Ralph  appeared. 

"  You  are  singing  a  favorite  tune  of  mine,"  he 
said  ;  "you  couldn't  guess  where  I  last  heard  it. 

"  I  know  where  I  did,"  said  Glyde,  "  and  I  should 
think  I  might  be  able  to  trace  your  association 
with  it;  you  have  heard  it  of  ten  in  our  own  church. 
Jt  is  one  of  Marjorie's  favorites,  you  know ;  she 
uses  it  sometimes  as  a  solo." 

"I  know;  but  I  heard  it,  last,  in  New  York,  as 
I  passed  a — church,  I  suppose  it  was,  though  it  didn't 
look  like  one.  It  was  not  being  sung  as  a  solo  ;  a 
great  many  people  were  singing,  I  should  judge. 
It  sounded  very  well  indeed  ;  I  was  almost  tempted 
inside  to  get  nearer  to  it." 

Said  Glyde,  "  Why,  that  is  a  strange  coinci 
dence  !  The  last  time  I  heard  it  was  in  New 
York,  and  I  was  inside  of  a  large  plain  building 
which  was  a  church,  or  at  least  a  hall  where  they 
hold  church  services,  and  £,  great  many  people 
were  singing.  What  if  it  should  have  been  the 
same  evening  ?  When  was  it,  Ralph?  We  were 
in  New  York  at  the  same  time,  you  know."  She 
proceeded  to  give  him  a  careful  statement  as  to 
date  and  surroundings. 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  177 

"Then  our  associations  with  it  must  be  the 
same,  in  a  way,"  said  Ralph.  "  It  was  on  that 
very  evening  and  in  just  that  locality  that  I  halted 
at  the  door,  half  tempted  to  spend  what  I  supposed 
then  would  be  the  only  evening  I  had  for  New 
York,  in  a  religious  meeting,  in  order  for  a  nearer 
approach  to  an  old  tune."  He  laughed  as  he 
spoke,  as  though  the  idea  must  be  an  absurd  one 
to  Glyde. 

She  regarded  him  wistfully.  "  Oh,  Ralph  I  I 
wish  so  much  that  you  had  come  in.  I  am  sure  you 
never  attended  such  a  meeting  as  that  was  ;  and 
perhaps  it  would  have  done  even  more  for  you 
than  for— — "  she  broke  off  abruptly,  not  inclined 
to  be  confidential  with  Ralph  Bramlett  as  to  what 
the  meeting  had  done  for  her.  After  a  moment 
she  began  again,  still  with  that  wistful  look  on 
her  face. 

"  Ralph,  do  you  know  I  cannot  help  wishing 
very  much  that  you  were  a  Christian?"  She 
could  not  keep  her  voice  from  trembling  as  she 
spoke.  Even  so  simple  a  demonstration  as  this 
was  a  startling  departure  from  her  habit  of  life. 
It  was  a  development  from  that  statement  which 
she  had  made  to  Mr.  Burwell  to  the  effect  that 
life  would  be  different  with  her  after  this. 

Ralph  laughed  in  a  slightly  embarrassed  way ; 
this  was  new  to  him  also ;  and  was  almost  as  much 
of  a  surprise  as  though  a  kitten*  had  suddenly  ap 
pealed  to  him  in  human  speech. 

"Why  in  the    world  should  you   wish  that?" 

12 


178  MAKING  FATE. 

he  asked,  more  because  a  reply  of  some  sort  seemed 
to  be  necessary  than  because  he  needed  to  have 
such  a  wish  explained. 

"Why  shouldn't  I?"  she  asked,  "and  why 
shouldn't  you,  above  everything  else  ?  Isn't  it 
strange  how  we  go  on  living ;  just  as  busy  as  we 
can  be  day  after  day  and  year  after  year  with  the 
less  important  things ;  the  most  important  ones 
not  being  so  much  as  thought  of,  apparently  ?  It 
has  always  seemed  strange  to  me.  Before  I  was  a 
Christian  at  all,  I  used  to  think  people  acted  very 
foolishly  about  such  matters.  Yet,  after  all,  when 
I  became  a  Christian  myself,  I  acted  just  like  most 
others.  But  I  don't  want  to ;  and  I  don't  mean 
to  any  more.  I  do  wish  very  much  indeed  that 
you  were  a  Christian  man.  I  thought  of  you  first, 
because — well,  I  knew  you  better  than  I  do  most 
young  men.  At  that  meeting  to  which  you  didn't 
go,  Ralph,  there  were  ever  so  many  young  men, 
and  the}'-  all  took  part  in  the  meeting  ;  spoke  as 
witnesses  for  Christ ;  it  did  seem  so  grand,  and 
so  reasonable  too.  It  seems  to  me  we  ought  to 
expect  young  men  almost  more  than  young  women, 
because  one  would  think  they  would  be  drawn  to 
Jesus  Christ  in  a  peculiar  manner,  and  want  Him 
for  their  friend.  Of  course  you  think  about  such 
things,  sometimes,  Ralph ;  how  is  it  that  you 
do  not  choose  Jesus  Christ  for  your  intimate 
friend?" 

This  point-blank  question  coming  from  a  child, 
as  Glyde  Douglass  had  always  seemed  to  him,  as- 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  .  179 

tonisbed  and  all  but  confused  tbe  young  man. 
She  was  looking  steadily  at  him  out  of  brigbt, 
earnest  eyes,  and  seemed  to  expect  a  definite 
answer  which  he  did  not  know  how  to  make.  It 
happened  that  this  was  the  first  direct  question  of 
the  kind  which  had  come  to  him  since  childhood ; 
still,  of  course,  there  was  no  way  but  to  make  an 
evasive  response. 

"  How  do  you  know  I  ever  think  of  such  abstruse 
matters  ?  "  he  asked,  trying  to  speak  lightly,  and 
in  the  tone  which  he  might  use  to  a  very  young 
person. 

"Because,"  she  said  gravely,  "you  have  not 
seemed  to  me  like  an  entirely  frivolous  person,  and 
I  cannot  think  that  any  save  the  utterly  thought 
less  leave  such  questions  out  of  their  minds  entirely. 
If  I  am  in  the  least  acquainted  with  you,  I  should 
think  you  would  be  the  kind  of  man  who  would 
want  Jesus  for  a  friend.  Do  you  not  admire  His 
character?  It  grows  upon  one  so,  as  one  studies 
it.  The  only  character  the  world  has  ever  known 
which  did  not  in  any  least  little  way  disappoint 
one.  I  should  think  a  young  man  would  have, 
oh,  almost  a  consuming  ambition  to  grow  like  Him. 
That  is  what  I  want  for  myself ;  to  take  Him  for 
my  model,  and  try  every  day  to  have  something 
about  me  which  will  remind  others  of  Him." 

"  That  is  a  pretty  large  ambition  for  a  young 
girl,"  said  Ralph,  still  bent  upon  treating  the  whole 
matter  lightly,  and  still  speaking  in  that  half-con 
descending  tone  which  some  people  use  to  those 


180  MAKING  FATE. 

very  much  younger  than  themselves.  She  took 
his  words  with  utmost  seriousness. 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is,  but  not  an  impossible  one  ; 
that  is  what  seems  so  very  wonderful  about  it  all ; 
It  is  one  of  the  things  He  came  especially  to  do  for 
us,  you  know :  that  we  might  be  '  conformed  to 
His  image."  That  is  the  verse  I  have  taken  for  my 
motto  and  daily  reminder.  '  To  be  conformed  to 
His  image.'  Is  not  that  an  ambition  worth  hav 
ing  ?  You  have  studied  His  character  in  a  histor 
ical  way,  haven't  you,  Ralph?  " 

It  struck  the  young  man  as  a  humiliating  thing 
to  have  to  answer  this  question  in  the  negative  ; 
he  made  his  answer  as  careless  as  possible. 

"  I  cannot  say  that  I  ever  have ;  at  least  not 
what  you  would  call  study,  perhaps  ;  though  of 
course  I  am  more  or  less  familiar  with  the  story, 
as  it  is  set  down  for  us." 

As  he  spoke  he  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of 
relief  in  the  thought  that  he  need  not  undergo  a 
cross-examination  with  regard  to  even  this  super 
ficial  knowledge ;  still,  with  the  relief,  there  was  a 
sense  of  humiliation :  it  was,  as  Glyde  intimated, 
somewhat  surprising  that  a  man  who  prided  him 
self  upon  his  common,  sense  and  thoughtfulness, 
should  have  to  confess  ignorance  of  a  character  so 
easily  studied  and  so  universally  acknowledged 
as  this  one.  If  he  could  pose  as  an  infidel  or  an 
unbeliever  in  the  Bible  in  any  sense  of  the  word  it 
would  perhaps  be  different ;  though  even  then, 
he  admitted  that  an  honest  unbeliever  ought  to  be 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  181 

familiar  with  th-e  evidences,  before  he  rejected 
them.  But  believing  fully,  as  he  did,  in  such  tre~ 
mendous  truths  as  those  which  circled  around 
Jesus  Christ,  it  was  certainly  humiliating  to  have 
to  admit  that  he  had  lived  all  these  years  without 
making  a  careful  study  of  them. 

There  were  movements  overhead  which  indi 
cated  that  Estelle  might  soon  be  with  them,  and 
Glyde  made  haste  to  finish  what  she  wanted  to 
say. 

"  But,  Ralph,  that  doesn't  seem  like  your  usual 
good  sense,  does  it  ?  I  wish  so  very  much  that 
both  you  and  Marjorie  could  be  led  to  study  this 
question  with  the  care  which  its  importance  de 
serves.  There  could  be  but  one  result,  for  you 
are  both  so  sensible  ;  and  Marjorie  is  the  sweetest 
girl  in  the  world ;  there  needs  only  one  added 
touch  to  make  her  life  perfect.  She  would  be  in 
terested  in  it  if  you  were ;  it  seems  perfectly  nat 
ural  to  think  of  you  and  she  studying  things  to 
gether.  Won't  you  promise  to  think  about  it  ?  " 

His  reply  was  very  disappointing. 

"  You  are  a  good  little  girl,"  he  said  graciously, 
"  a  great  deal  better  than  most  of  your  friends,  it 
seems  to  me.  I  feel  especially  honored  in  being 
the  one  you  have  selected  to  present  these  new 
ideas  to.  They  are  rather  new,  are  they  not?" 

"  Ah,  but  that  isn't  promising  anything,"  she 
said  earnestly. 

"  No ;  I  am  rather  afraid  of  promises  ;  they  mean 
altogether  too  much  to  me  ;  being  a  man  of  my 


182  MAKING  FATE. 

word,  you  see,  I  have  to  look  out  for  them  ;  I  prom 
ise  to  be  very  glad  that  I  have  such  a  good  little 
friend  as  you  to  interest,  yourself  in  me,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  we  should  all  be  improved  if  we 
thought  more  about  such  matters  than  we  do." 

Then  Estelle  came  down  and  he  turned  back  to 
the  parlor  to  meet  her,  leaving  Glyde  with  a  sadly 
disappointed  heart.  Ralph  Bramlett  would  never 
know  what  force  of  will  it  had  taken  to  overcome 
her  usual  reserve  and  speak  to  him  out  of  her 
deeper  feeling  ;  and  to  realize  that  it  had  been  for 
naught,  was  bitter. 

However,  Ralph  Bramlett  was  not  so  entirely 
indifferent  to  the  whole  matter  as  he  had  professed. 
The  simple  yet  evidently  earnest  words  which  had 
been  spoken  to  him  on  an  unusual  subject,  lin 
gered  with  him.  He  let  Estelle  chatter,  as  they 
walked  down  the  street  together,  and  went  over 
the  conversation,  sentence  by  sentence.  It  was  a 
curious  thing  for  a  child  to  do,  he  told  himself. 
Some  new  influence  must  have  touched  her  ;  per 
haps  she  had  fallen  in  with  a  different  class  of 
friends  from  those  he  had  met  in  New  York. 
Suppose  he  had  gone  in  to  that  prayer-meeting ; 
would  he  have  met  a  different  class  of  persons  and 
been  influenced  by  them  ?  Actually,  he  speculated 
over  the  thought  and  was  curious  about  it !  Then 
he  recalled  the  promise  for  which  he  had  been 
asked,  and  smiled  indulgently  over  the  idea  of  liis 
promising  that  child  anything !  Yet  it  was  cer 
tainly  very  pretty  in  her  to  ask  it,  and  eminently 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  183 

sensible.  She  had  linked  his  name  with  Marjorie's 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  that  had  been  soothing. 
It  is  true  that  he  had  not^o  much  as  exchanged  bows 
with  Marjorie  during  the  weeks  that  he  had  now 
been  in  the  employ  of  Snyder,  Snyder  and  Co.,  but 
lie  looked  every  day  for  a  change  in  that  direction. 
Each  evening  on  reaching  home,  he  went  eagerly 
over  his  mail,  and  questioned  closely  with  regard 
to  any  messages  that  might  have  been  brought  for 
him.  His  belief  was  that  if  he  gave  Marjorie  time 
enough,  she  would  write  in  reply  to  his  note,  ask 
ing  why  he  had  absented  himself  so  persistently, 
and  remind  him  once  more  that  he  had  friends  on 
Maple  Avenue. 

Such  a  note  as  he  had  planned  that  she  should 
write  him,  he  had  decided  would  be  a  sufficient 
balm  to  his  wounded  feelings  to  admit  of  his  call 
ing  and  talking  over  with  her  the  entire  matter. 
After  that,  he  determined  that  their  friendship 
should  be  re-established  upon  an  entirely  different 
basis.  By  this  time  Marjorio  would  have  learned 
that  she  must  not  undertake  to  control  him  in  any 
way ;  that  he  was  master,  as  a  man  should  be,  and 
that  her  duty  as  a  woman  was  to  yield  at  all  times 
to  his  superior  judgment.  Thus  much  mischief 
her  last  note  to  him  had  wrought :  it  had  removed 
from  his  mind  any  shadow  of  fear  as  to  the  final 
result  of  the  difference  between  them.  A  girl 
who  could,  after  his  weeks  of  absence  and  silence 
write  to  him  in  the  extremely  kind  way  that  she 
had,  must  think  a  very  great  deal  of  him  indeed  ; 


184  MAKING  FATE. 

quite  as  much  as  he  thought  of  her ;  it  was  only  a 
matter  of  time  for  him  to  re-establish  himself  in 
the  Edmonds  family ;  or  father  to  settle  himself 
as  an  assured  force  there  ;  for  he  believed  that 
Marjorie  had  quite  as  much  influence  over  her 
mother  as  he  had  over  her.  He  must  simply  be 
patient  and  bide  his  time  ;  then  all  would  be  well 
between  them  ;  much  better  than  it  ever  had  been  ; 
for  the  more  he  thought  about  it  the  more  he  was 
convinced  that  Marjorie  had  been  too  willing  to 
direct,  and  too  sure  that  he  would  follow  her  lead. 
Meantime,  while  he  was  waiting,  it  would  do  no 
harm  to  cultivate  the  friendship  of  Estelle  Doug 
lass.  She  evidently  enjoyed  his  society,  and  it 
would  not  injure  his  cause  with  Marjorie  for  her 
to  learn  that  he  was  not  cut  off  from  friendly  com 
panionship  because  she  had  chosen  to  break  with 
him.  You  will  observe  "that  he  had  given  up  any 
idea  that  he  was  to  blame  in  all  this  matter.  On 
the  contrary,  he  had  begun  to  congratulate  him 
self  on  his  good  judgment  in  not  exposing  a  com 
pany  of  young  people  to  a  long  ride  in  the  night 
air,  when  it  could  as  well  be  taken  by  daylight. 
In  short,  Ralph  Bramlett  was  completely  reinstated 
in  his  good  opinion  of  himself,  and  it  cannot  be 
denied  that  Marjorie's  note  had  done  much  toward 
bringing  him  to  his  habitual  frame  of  mind  once 
more.  It  was  because  he  felt  complacent  that 
Glyde's  appeal  had  interested  him  ;  it  appealed, 
he  told  himself,  to  his  common  sense ;  and  while 
it  may  be  a  surprise  to  some,  it  is  nevertheless  the 


A  SURPRISING  DECISION.  185 

fact  that  this  young  man  prided  himself  upon  his 
common  sense ! 

Now  that  he  thought  of  it,  he  admitted  that  it 
really  was  quite  strange  that  a  young  man  of  his 
stamp  should  not  have  given  serious  attention  to 
such  subjects.  Glyde  had  spoken  of  him  as  one 
who,  she  thought,  would  like  to  become  friends 
with  Jesus  Christ;  the  thought  did  not  fill  him 
with  awe,  but  with  a  sense  of  eminent  fitness. 
What  more  reasonable  than  to  suppose  that  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  would  be  pleased  with  his  ac 
quaintance?  Oh,  he  did  not  put  it  quite  so  baldly 
as  that,  but  the  thought,  analyzed,  suggested  almost 
condescension  upon  his  part.  He  began  serious 
ly  to  consider  whether  some  such  step  would  not 
be  the  proper  one  to  take  next.  Certainly  it  would 
sound  very  well  indeed  to  have  it  said  that  Ralph 
Bramlett,  who  was  supposed  by  some  to  have,  taken 
a  step  downward  on  account  of  the  clerkship  which 
he  had  accepted,  had  become  deeply  interested  in 
religious  matters ;  had,  in  fact,  taken  a  decided 
stand.  This  Avould  astonish  and  perhaps  not  a 
little  discomfit  some  people  ;  it  would  serve  to 
show  that  the  business  relations  which  he  had 
formed,  instead  of  proving  his  ruin,  had  led  him 
to  a  serious  consideration  of  the  most  important 
business  ;  not  only  a  consideration,  but  a  decision. 
Why  should  he  not  decide  at  once  to  unite  with 
the  church  ?  His  character  was  undoubtedly  be- 
ycnd  reproach.  He  lived  as  entirely  a  Christian 
life  to  all  appearance  now,  as  did  those  of  his  ac- 


186  MAKING  FATE. 

quaintance  who  were  church  members.  It  is  true 
that  Christian  people  read  the  Bible  he  supposed, 
with  a  certain  degree  of  regularity,  and  this  he 
had  not  been  in  the  habit  of  doing.  But  it  was 
entirely  proper,  and  he  had  no  objections  what 
ever  to  doing  so.  Moreover  they  prayed,  with 
more  or  less  frequency,  and  that  too  seemed  to  him 
a  most  suitable  thing  to  do.  When  he  was  a  little 
fellow  he  used  to  pray  quite  regularly;  it  was 
probably  owing  to  his  unfortunate  environment 
that  he  had  ever  given  up  the  habit.  So  far  as 
the  weekly  prayer-meeting  was  concerned,  he  re 
flected  with  satisfaction  that  he  knew  many  emi 
nently  respectable  church  members  who  evidently 
did  not  find  it  consistent  with  their  other  duties 
to  attend,  at  least  with  any  degree  of  regularity. 
Of  course  he  could  go  occasionally  ;  he  thought  he 
should  quite  like  to  do  so.  In  short,  while  Estelle 
Douglass  was  giving  an  elaborate  description  of  a 
fancy-dress  entertainment  of  which  she  had  heard, 
and  explaining  volubly  how  they  might  adapt  it 
to  their  needs  so  as  to  make  a  sum  of  money  for 
benevolent  or  missionary  purposes,  her  companion 
was  deliberately  deciding  to  become  forthwith  in 
terested  in  the  subject  of  religion,  and  to  unite 
himself,  without  much  more  delay,  with  the  visible 
Church.  This  plan,  besides  appealing  to  his  com 
mon  sense,  seemed  to  him  a  delicious  piece  of 
diplomacy  to  show  Mrs.  Edmonds  and  her  set  how 
utterly  they  were  mistaken  in  him. 

Was  Ralph  Bramlett  then  a  hypocrite  ?     Not  in 


A  SUHPRISING  DECISION.  187 

the  slightest  degree.  He  was  simply  a  self-deceived 
young  man,  who  knew  no  more  about  the  real 
claims  of  Jesus  Christ,  or  of  his  power  over  the  heart 
and  conscience  than  did  the  veriest  child.  He 
honestly  believed  that  for  a  moral,  upright  young 
man  like  himself,  the  one  step  needed  in  order  for 
him  to  identify  himself  fully  with  all  the  religious 
movements  of  the  day,  was  to  unite  with  the 
church  and  adopt  the  forms  of  service  which  church 
people  used.  It  seemed  to  him,  as  Glyde  had 
said,  a  surprising  thing  that  he  had  not  taken  this 
step  before.  He  told  himself  that  if  he  had  thought 
about  it  seriously,  he  would  undoubtedly  have 
done  so.  And  that  he  had  not  thought  about  it, 
was  owing  to  the  fact  that  he  was  surrounded  by  a 
class  of  people  who  gave  little  heed  to  such  things 
and  had  made  no  attempt  to  press  their  claims 
upon  him ;  so,  after  all,  the  delay  was  their  fault, 
not  his. 


188  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AS     OTHERS     SEE     US. 

"  Oh  wad  some  power  the  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursel's  as  ithers  see  us  !  " 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  injury  which  his  com 
panions  had  done  this  estimable  young  man  by 
not  urging  him  to  the  important  step  which  he 
now  contemplated,  he  could  not  seriously  regret 
the  delay;  for  he  told  himself  that  he  could  not 
have  had  a  more  opportune  time  than  the  present. 
He  by  no  means  used,  in  thinking  it  over,  the 
words  which  would  have  honestly  described  his 
desire,  which  was  to  create  a  sensation ;  instead, 
he  made  use  of  a  phrase  which  he  had  somewhere 
heard,  about  letting  his  light  shine  ;  it  seemed  an 
eminently  appropriate  idea ;  he  had  light,  plenty 
of  it,  why  not  let  it  shine  ? 

He  interrupted  Estelle's  description,  with  an 
apparently  irrelevant  remark  :  "  Your  little  sister 
Glyde  has  developed  in  a  new  direction,  has  she 
not,  of  late  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Estelle,  wondering  by  what 
process  of  mental  arithmetic  he  had  added  Glyde 
to  the  theme  which  they  were  supposed  to  be  con 
sidering.  "  The  child  really  blossomed  out  wlie;i 
she  went  on  her  trip  with  Uncle  Anthony.  I  think 


AS  OTHERS  SEE  US.  189 

I  never  knew  a  girl  to  change  so  much  in  so  short 
a  time.  I  can't  define  the  change,  either;  it 
eludes  description ;  but  it  is  perfectly  palpable, 
nevertheless.  How  does  she  exhibit  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  thought  she  seemed  more  seriously  inclined 
than  usual." 

"  Serious  ?  Religiously  do  you  mean  ?  Has  she 
been  talking  to  you  ?  "  Estelle  laughed  as  though 
this  were  a  matter  for  amusement  and  also  one 
which  demanded  apology.  "  Don't  mind  her, 
Ralph  ;  it  is  something  that  will  wear  off.  She 
fell  in  with  a  company  of  fanatics  I  think,  while 
she  was  away ;  very  queer  people  they  must  have 
been  from  the  account  she  gives.  She  went  to  a 
meeting  somewhere,  down  among  the  slums,  I  sup 
pose,  judging  from  the  character  of  the  people,  and 
there  she  heard  all  sorts  of  queer  ideas  advanced. 
She  is  at  an  impressionable  age,  you  know,  and  the 
whole  thing  evidently  made  a  deep  impression. 
We  are  very  much  surprised  to  see  in  what  way 
New  York  life  took  hold  of  her ;  it  is  the  last  ex 
perience  we  should  have  expected,  with  Uncle 
Anthony  for  a  companion ;  he  is  eminently  prac 
tical.  If  Glyde  were  not  so  young  and  so  easily 
influenced,  I  should  feel  quite  worried  about  her, 
for  of  all  fanaticisms,  I  think  religious  is  the  very 
worst.  Do  not  you  ?  " 

Ralph,  shielded  by  the  darkness,  curled  his 
moustached  lip  very  slightly.  He  did  not  call 
Glyde's  words  to  him  fanatical ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  considered  them  not  only  sensible  but  reason- 


190  MAKING  FATE. 

able.  He  told  himself  that  he  had  a  much  higher 
opinion  of  her  religion  than  he  had  of  Estelle's ; 
then  he  assured  himself  that  he  must  always  have 
had  a  religious  nature  in  order  to  have  such  mat 
ters  impress  him  as  they  did.  Perhaps  he  should 
really  quite  enjoy  his  change  of  base. 

When  he  went  to  his  room  that  evening,  he  took 
down  the  Bible  which  had  been  the  gift  of  his 
Sunday-school  teacher  on  his  fifteenth  birthday, 
and  which  had  been  opened  only  at  rare  intervals 
since,  and  looked  at  its  pages  with  a  certain  degree 
of  interest.  This  was  part  of  the  new  life  which 
he  had  resolved  to  commence.  Where  should  he 
read?  Why  not  at  the  very  beginning?  People 
who  professed  to  use  the  Bible  daily,  should  know 
it  as  a  whole.  The  thought  of  turning  to  the  life 
of  Christ  and  making  himself  acquainted  with  the 
character  which  had  so  impressed  Glyde  occurred 
to  him,  but  was  promptly  dismissed.  He  could 
not  have  told  why  lie  shrank  from  this, — he  did 
not  allow  himself  to  realize  that  he  did  so ;  he 
simply  explained  to  himself  that  the  New  Testa 
ment  was  for  children  and  undeveloped  young 
people,  like  Glyde  Douglass ;  every  ordinarily 
educated  person  of  his  years  was  more  or  less 
familiar  with  it ;  he  remembered  its  stories  per 
fectly.  He  Avould  take  the  very  first  chapter  of 
the  Old  Testament:  "In  the  beginning  God 
created  the  heaven  and  the  earth."  The  majestic 
story  spread  itself  before  him,  calling  upon  a 
thoughtful  man  to  take  in  its  stupendous  simplic- 


A 8  OTHERS  SEE  US.  191 

ity  and  depth ;  but  very  little  attention  did  this 
reader  pay  to  the  words  over  which  his  eyes  were 
roving.  It  is  an  actual  fact  that  it  had  not  deeply 
impressed  itself  upon  him  that  it  was  important  to 
give  his  entire  mind  to  what  he  read.  His  thoughts 
if  they  had  been  written  out  would  have  been 
something  like  this  :  "  I  wonder  what  that  immac 
ulate  Mrs.  Edmonds  would  think,  could  she  know 
how  I  am  occupied  just  at  this  time?  she  believes 
that  IJiave  gone  to  the  dogs  because  I  have  chosen 
to  accept  a  salary  which  will  help  my  "father,  in 
stead  of  hanging  around  all  winter  doing  nothing, 
waiting  for  something  to  come  to  me.  It  is  not 
the  position  which  I  should  have  chosen,  but  it  is 
the  one  evidently  to  which  Providence  assigned 
me."  When  he  thought  this,  he  felt  religious  in 
the  extreme,  and  put  away  even  from  his  memory 
all  knpwledge  of  the  fact  that  his  own  obstinacy 
and 'carelessness  had  closed  some  doors  which  were 
apparently  wide  open.  The  first  chapter  of  Gen 
esis  and  the  accompanying  thoughts,  moved  on 
together. 

"  'And  God  said  let  us  make  man  in  our  image, 
after  our  likeness; '  and  so  far  from  this  new  business 
demoralizing  me,  as  I  believe  my  Lady  Edmonds 
hopes  it  will,  I  am  actually  beginning  a  new  life 
because  of  it !  I  wonder  if  Marjorie  reads  her  Bible 
every  day  ?  Such  a  saint  as  her  mother  must  have 
brought  her  up  to  these  habits,  I  should  think, 
though  to  be  sure  Marjorie  has  a  mind  of  her  own  ; 
the  views  of  most  other  people  do  not  affect  her. 


192  MAKING  FATE. 

I  fancy  I  know  one  who  can  influence  her  when  he 
really  sets  about  it.  That  little  Glyde  seemed  to 
think  that  all  Marjorie  needed  to  bring  her  out  as 
a  church  member  was  for  me  to  take  the  lead.  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  she  were  correct.  I  think  I 
shall  unite  with  the  church  at  once  ;  there  is  no 
use  in  waiting,  after  one's  mind  is  made  up.  I  be 
lieve  the  communion  service  in  our  church  occurs 
on  the  first  Sunday  in  the  year ;  that  is  an  interest 
ing  time  at  which  to  take  a  stand.  I  should  like 
to  have  Marjorie  join  with  me,  but  that  would  be 
too  soon  for  her,  perhaps ;  and  on  the  whole,  the 
effect  may  be  better  if  I  come  first  and  alone ;  there 
might  be  some  who  would  be  foolish  enough  to 
think  that  I  was  influenced  by  her  if  we  came  to 
gether.  I  think  I  will  go  alone  ;  if  there  are  no 
others  to  join  at  that  time,  so  much  the  better,  as 
my  example  will  be  all  the  stronger."  The  chapter 
finished—and  he  ended  it  with  the  thought :  "  I  hope 
some  of  those  self-righteous  persons  who  decided 
that  because  I  tried  to  do  the  best  I  could  for  my 
family  I  was  on  the  high-road  to  perdition,  will 
have  their  eyes  opened  to  see  that  there  are  thought 
ful,  conscientious  people  in  the  world  besides  them 
selves — "  he  closed  the  Bible  and  assumed  the  at 
titude  of  prayer.  When,  before,  had  he  been  on 
his  knees?  His  mind  went  swiftly  back  to  the 
time  when  his  little  sister  Dora  lay  dying,  and  the 
minister  asked  them  all  to  kneel  while  he  prayed 
for  her  passing  soul.  He  had  knelt  with  the  rest, 
but  kept  his  eyes  on  his  sister's  face ;  and  had 


.4.9  OTHERS  SEE  US.  193 

seen  a  strange  light  come  into  her  eyes,  and  a 
heavenly  smile  bathe  her  features  as  though  the 
angels  about  whom  she  talked  had  indeed  come  to 
get  her ;  as  a  matter  of  fact,  when  the  prayer  was 
finished  and  they  arose  from  their  knees,  it  was 
found  that  Dora  had  gone  away.  Ralph  had 
thought  then  that  he  never  should  forget  that  look, 
and  the  impressions  which  the  entire  scene  left 
upon  his  heart;  but  he  was  barely  sixteen  at  that 
time,  and  he  had  not  thought  of  his  little  sister 
before,  for  years.  One  sentence  of  the  minister's 
prayer  came  back  to  him  as  he  knelt,  and  wondered 
what  it  would  be  proper  to  say.  "  Prepare  us  each 
for  this  solemn  hour,  when  it  shall  come  to  us." 
The  thought  of  death  had  startled  him  then ;  it 
startled  him  now  ;  he  did  not  want  to  be  prepared 
for  that  "  solemn  hour ;  "  he  wanted  to  live  ;  he  in 
tended  to  live ;  to  be  a  successful  business  man — 
yes,  and  a  successful  Christian  ;  to  be  respected,  ad 
mired.  He  had  always  been  considered  an  estima 
ble  young  man,  it  was  quite  time  that  he  was  also 
an  example  for  others  in  this  direction.  He  had 
no  objection  whatever,  so  that  it  did  not  interfere 
with  his  success  in  life.  Oh,  he  did  not  let  that 
idea  halt  before  him,  so  he  could  look  at  it  and  see 
what  it  really  meant;  it  simply  floated  through  his 
mind.  It  will  be  noted  that  he  had  yet  to  learn 
that  people  who  are  prepared  for  the  solemn  hour  of 
death  are  the  only  ones  who  are  ready  to  live.  But 
all  this  was  not  praying.  The  kneeling  man  began 
to  feel  a  certain  sense  of  awe  in  the  thought  that 
13 


194  MAKING  FATE. 

he  was  iu  the  presence  of  the  Lord,  and  preparing 
to  speak  to  him.  What  words  would  be  appro 
priate  ?  What  did  he  want  ?  If  he  had  but 
realized  that  he  did  not  want  anything  which  it 
would  be  wise  to  bring  before  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  thought  might  have  helped  him.  In 
stead,  he  began  to  feel  that  he  must  be  naturally 
of  a  very  reverent  disposition,  since  the  idea  of 
prayer  filled  him  with  such  a  sense  of  awe.  At  last 
lie  decided,  and  began  in  an  appropriate  tone  :  "  Our 
Father  who  art  in  heaven,  hallowed  be  thy  name ; 
thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done ;"  and  continued 
through  to  the  majestic  closing :  "  For  thine  is  the 
kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory."  Nothing, 
he  assured  himself,  could  be  more  proper  than  the 
Lord's  own  prayer  which  he  had  himself  taught 
his  disciples.  That  ought'  to  voice  all  the  needs 
of  the  human  soul ;  and  it  was  as  familiar  to  him 
as  his  own  name. 

Alas  for  Ralph  !  the  green  parrot  on  its  perch  in 
the  minister's  study  could  have  recited  the  words 
nearly  as  well  as  he,  and  would  have  had  almost 
as  full  a  sense  of  their  deep  spiritual  meaning ! 
"Thy  kingdom  come !"  How  little  this  young 
man  cared  for  the  Lord's  kingdom  !  If  his  prayer 
had  been  answered  then  and  there,  and  the 
kingdom  had  been  set  up  on  the  earth,  hardly  any 
thing  could  have  interfered  more  entirely  with  his 
plans  and  hopes.  How  very  far  he  was  from  de 
siring  to  do  the  Lord's  will !  Whenever  that  will 
was  pleasant,  convenient,  in  a  line  with  his  own 


AS  OTHERS  SEE  If 8.  195 

ideas  and  inclinations,  why,  then,  of  course  ;  but  the 
moment  the  wills  crossed,  it  must  be  Ralph  Bram- 
lett's  which  was  to  have  the  ascendency.  This  was 
not  only  his  wish  but  his  intention,  although  he 
had  never  put  it  into  words. 

"  More's  the  pity,  "  if  we  would  occasionally  put 
our  passing  thoughts  into  bold  words  and  study 
their  spirit,  they  might  teach  us  to  know  ourselves. 
Ralph  Bramlett  did  not  in  the  least  understand 
that  such  was  his  trend  of  thought. 

On  the  whole,  he  arose  from  his  knees  quite 
satisfied  with  himself.  He  had  begun  the  new 
life  ;  he  had  read  the  Bible  ;  he  had  prayed.  He 
had  declined  to  give  any  promise  to  Glyde  con 
cerning  these  matters,  and  had  not,  when  he  left 
her,  intended  to  give  them  a  second  thought ;  so  it 
was  no  "weak  "  girl's  influence  which  had  brought 
him  to  a  decision ;  it  was  his  own  superior  judg 
ment  and  will.  This  recollection  gave  him  great 
pleasure. 

Meantime,  Mr.  Maxwell's  acquaintance  with 
the  Edmonds  family  had  made  rapid  progress. 
Not  apparently  because  of  the  planning  of  any  of 
them,  but  by  natural  sequence.  On  the  first  even 
ing  following  their  walk  together,  when  he  and 
Marjorie  met  in  the  hall,  it  was  of  course  entire 
ly  the  proper  thing  to  do,  to  ask  particularly  after 
her  welfare,  and  as  to  whether  the  unusual  expo 
sure  on  the  evening  before  had  worked  ill  in  any 
way.  Of  course,  for  Marjorie  to  have  assumed  the 
air  of  a  stranger,  after  his  extreme  friendliness  and 


196  MAKING  FATE. 

kindness,  would  have  been  ridiculous.  So  they 
presently  found  themselves  chatting  together  as 
friends  of  some  standing.  Mr.  Maxwell  had  a  book 
in  his  hand,  and  explained  to  Marjorie  that  he  had 
found  a  description  of  her  glen  ;  or  else  there  was 
a  remarkable  degree  of  similarity  between  two 
choice  portions  of  the  world ;  and  he  challenged 
her  to  listen  while  he  read. 

This  roused  a  discussion  with  regard  to  that 
glen,  and  some  others,  and  led  to  a  talk  concern 
ing  that  particular  author,  and  other  authors,  and 
books  in  general.  So  that,  when  Mr.  Maxwell, 
who  had  been  invited  to  take  a  seat  while  he  was 
reading  his  extract,  arose  to  go,  it  came  to  pass 
that  it  was  quite  an  hour  later  than  when  he 
stopped  in  the  hall  for  kindly  inquiries.  He  apol 
ogized  for  his  intrusion,  and  Mrs.  Edmonds  met 
him  cordially. 

"  Don't  apologize  I  beg ;  we  have  enjoyed  the 
hour.  Marjorie  and  I  are  often  quite  alone  here  at 
this  time  of  the  day  ;  it  is  pleasant  to  have  com 
pany.  And  to  talk  with  a  third  person  about 
the  books  we  have  been  reading,  is  a  refreshment 
to  me.  I  come  in  contact  with  so  few  people  in 
these  days  who  seem  to  read  books  at  all ;  at  least, 
any  that  I  care  for." 

As  she  spoke,  her  daughter  regarded  her  with 
a  sort  of  tender  surprise.  Had  her  mother,  then, 
been  often  lonely?  They  had  lived  such  a  pre 
occupied  and  entirely  satisfactory  life  together, 
she  and  Ralph,  that  the  mother  had  perhaps  been 


AS  OTHERS  SEE  US.  197 

sometimes  almost  forgotten.  Oh,  they  had  read 
many  books  together,  she  and  her  mother.  Their 
winter  afternoons  were  almost  certain  to  be  spent 
in  this  way;  but  when  Ralph  came,  the  books  had 
been  laid  aside  as  a  matter  of  course  ;  and  conver 
sation  and  music  had  taken  their  place,  with  her ; 
not  with  her  mother,  she  was  obliged  to  admit. 
Mrs.  Edmonds  did  not  sing;  and  Marjorie realized 
that  their  habits  of  late,  hers  and  Ralph's,  had  been 
to  go,  early  in  the  evening,  to  the  piano,  to  turn 
over  the  music,  and  sing  snatches  of  favorite  songs, 
conversing  together  between  times,  generally  in 
low  tones,  so  as  not  to  disturb  the  reading  which 
was  being  carried  on  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room. 
Her  mother  always  had  beside  her  a  book  which 
was  supposed  to  occupy  her  quiet  moments;  it 
really  had  not  occurred  to  Marjorie  until  now  that 
possibly  at  those  times  she  felt  alone.  It  was 
perhaps  because  she  was  grieved  and  penitent 
over  this  new  idea  that  she  accepted  with  such 
cordiality  Mr.  Maxwell's  next  kind  offer  of  friend 
ship.  They  had  been  speaking  about  a  new  book, 
one  which  was  creating  a  sensation  in  the  literary 
world.  In  the  course  of  the  next  two  or  three 
days  Mr.  Maxwell  announced  that  he  had  secured 
a  copy  of  the  book,  and  that  if  it  would  be  entirely 
agreeable,  he  would  like  to  read  aloud  from  it 
on  leisure  evenings,  while  they  worked.  He  con 
fessed  frankly  that  he  had  grown  very  weary  of 
reading  alone ;  was,  in  fact,  "  hungering  and 
thirsting  for  an  audience." 


198  MAKING  FATE, 

This  was  while  Ralph  Bramlett  was  still  in  New 
York,  so  Marjorie's  evenings  were  entirely  at  her 
disposal ;  she  hailed  the  proposition  with  gratitude 
even  on  her  own  account.  She  had  so  many  things 
to  think  about,  with  which  she  began  to  have  an 
instinctive  feeling  that  her  mother  was  not  in  sym 
pathy,  that  she  could  not  help  thinking  it  would 
be  a  relief  to  seem  to  be  occupied  in  listening  to 
some  one  reading  aloud,  while  at  the  same  time 
she  was  at  liberty  to  carry  on  her  own  train  of 
thought.  But  Mr.  Max  well  proved  to  be  a  delight 
ful  reader,  and  the  book  he  had  chosen  was  one 
calculated  to  fascinate  a  cultivated  taste.  By  the 
time  he  was  well  into  the  story  she  had  determined 
to  leave  her  individual  thinking  for  more  conven 
ient  hours  and  give  undivided  attention  to  the  book. 
They  did  not  make  very  rapid  progress  with  the 
story ;  it  was  surprising  how  many  questions  they 
had  to  stop  to  discuss,  and  how  many  arguments 
were  carried  on  vigorously  with  regard  to  the 
writer's  views,  or  style,  or  intentions.  By  degrees 
the  entire  plot  of  the  book,  not  only  as  it  had  al 
ready  appeared,  but  as  they  fancied  it  would  de 
velop,  was  eagerly  discussed  and  improvements  sug 
gested,  and,  when  a  difference  of  opinion  was  ex 
pressed,  each  combatant  argued  with  energy  for  his 
side.  At  first,  Marjorie  meant  to  listen,  allowing 
her  mother  and  Mr.  Maxwell  to  do  the  arguing  ; 
but  this  was  by  no  means  so  easy  a  task  as  she  had 
supposed ;  she  found  that  her  own  ideas  were  pro 
nounced,  and  would  insist  on  being  brought  to  the 


AS  OTHERS  SEE  US.  199 

front.  She  found,  also,  that  Mr.  Maxwell's  ideas 
often  differed  from  hers,  and  that  an  argument 
between  them  could  be  spirited,  with  a  keen  play 
of  wit  on  either  side,  and  yet  could  be  thoroughly 
enjoyable. 

Very  often  during  this  war  of  ideas  Mrs.  Ed 
monds  of  choice  dropped  a  little  into  the  back 
ground  and  indulged  in  her  own  thoughts,  which 
ran  a  little  on  this  wise  :  "  How  is  it  possible  that 
Marjorie  can  enjoy  such  conversations  with  a 
thoroughly  cultivated  man,  and  not  feel  how  sharp 
is  the  contrast  between  him  and  Ralph  Bramlett?" 

But  there  is  no  accounting  for  the  obtuseness 
of  some  young  women  under  certain  circum 
stances.  During  those  days,  Marjorie's  loyal  heart 
drew  no  pictures  illustrating  the  difference  be 
tween  the  two  gentlemen.  She  enjoyed  Mr. 
Maxwell ;  she  was  ready  to  heartily  agree  with 
her  mother  that  he  was  refined  and  scholarly, 
and  that  the  hours  of  reading  he  had  given  them 
were  very  pleasant,  not  only,  but  educational,  in  the 
best  sense  ;  and  perhaps  at  the  very  moment  her 
heart  would  be  wondering  how  much  longer  Ralph 
meant  to  wait  before  writing.  Sometimes  she 
would  ask- herself  if  it  could  be  possible  that  she 
had  so  hurt  him  by  her  manner  that  afternoon,  that 
he  was  really  afraid  to  write  at  all.  If  she  could 
have  been  sure  of  that,  she  would  have  written  to 
him  even  during  those  early  days.  When  Ralph 
finally  returned  and  the  notes  were  exchanged,  and 
the  real  break  came,  Mr.  Maxwell  became  Marjorie's 


200  MAKING  FATE. 

greatest  stronghold.  He  knew  nothing  of  course 
of  the  fiery  trial  through  which  she  was  passing  ; 
she  could  therefore  sit  quietly  in  his  presence  and 
seem  to  listen  as  before  to  his  reading,  and  live  all 
the  time  her  separate  life  of  self-concentrated  pain, 
without  tearing  her  mother's  heart-strings  by  soli 
tude.  So  she  hailed  the  advent  of  another  book 
when  the  first  was  finished,  with  such  evident 
satisfaction  as  to  deceive  even  her  mother.  Tims 
it  came  to  pass  that  the  readings  became  an  almost 
nightly  occurrence.  If  the  reader  noticed  that 
Marjorie  took  little  part  in  the  discussions,  he  made 
no  sign,  but  talked  as  well  and  with  as  keen  a  zest  as 
before  ;  and,  ki  truth,  Mrs.  Edmonds  was  a  woman 
whose  ideas  were  well  worthy  of  attention  and 
respect.  What  a  curious  revelation  there  would 
have  been  to  these  three  if  the  secrets  of  hearts 
could  have  suddenly  been  laid  bare  before  them ! 
Something  like  this  would  have  been  the  result 
for  each  with  surprised  eyes  to  read. 

Marjorie  :  "  It  is  just  a  year  ago  to-night  that  we 
went  to  Hartwell  together,  and  Ralph  gave  me  his 
photograph  taken  in  that  new  way ;  and  he  said : 
'  Marjorie  let  us  have  our  photographs  taken  every 
year  for  each  other,  until  I  am  eighty ;  after  that, 
I  suppose  we  will  not  care  for  fresh  ones.'  I  won 
der  if  it  is  possible  that  he  does  not  think  of  any 
of  those  old  times  !  Oh,  I  must  not  think  of  them 
any  more.  I  must  not  let  poor  mamma  know  that 
I  am  living  in  my  past." 

Mrs.    Edmonds  :     "  My   poor   darling !     If  her 


AS  OTHERS  SEE  US.  201 

mother  only  dared  to  tell  her  how  much  she  sym 
pathizes  with  her !  Every  one  of  these  evenings 
is  an  anniversary  of  something  which  now  gives 
her  pain.  If  I  could  be  sure  that  the  pain  would 
last,  and  that  I  ought  to  give  her  up  to  him,  I 
would  humilate  myself,  yes,  crucify  myself  for  her 
sake,  and  try  to  bring  them  together.  I  am  per 
suaded  that  it  would  take  but  a  word  from  me. 
He  is  simply  sulking,  and  cannot  get  the  consent 
of  his  pride  to  make  the  first  advance  ;  but  oh, 
surely  it  cannot  be  that  I  ought !  " 

Mr.  Maxwell :  "  She  is  paler  than  usual  to-night ; 
women  with  hearts  must  needs  feel,  even  though 
the  object  which  calls  out  those  feelings  is  made 
of  the  merest  putty.  I  must  try  to  hold  the 
mother's  attention  away  from  her  to-night ;  I  see 
no  other  way  to  help  her — yet." 


202  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE    "BEST    THING." 

MATTERS  were  in  about  this  shape  when  Glyde 
Douglass  came  one  afternoon,  to  have  a  little  visit 
with  Marjorie.  Glyde  was  a  favorite  not  only  with 
Marjorie  but  her  mother.  Mrs.  Edmonds,  who  was 
always  watching  without  seeming  to,  saw  the 
brightening  of  her  daughter's  pale,  quiet  face  as 
Glyde  appeared,  and  pressed  with  earnestness  her 
invitation  to  remain  to  tea,  promising  if  she  would, 
to  make  a  certain  kind  of  muffins  of  which  the 
young  people  were  especially  fond.  She  was  in 
the  kitchen  intent  upon  her  hospitable  task,  and 
the  two  girls  were  alone  in  the  pleasant  back 
parlor.  On  the  table  lay  the  book  which  was 
being  read  aloud.  Glyde  picked  it  up  and  ex 
amined  it  with  interest,  from  the  fly  leaf  where 
Mr.  Maxwell's  name  was  written  in  his  own  hand 
to  the  few  fine  illustrations  scattered  through  it, 
stopping  here  and  there  to  read  a  sentence  as  a 
word  caught  her  eye. 

"  Is  this  nice  ?  "  she  asked,  using  her  pet  word 
which  had  to  do  duty  for  many  unlike  things. 
"  How  interesting  it  looks,  doesn't  it  ?  Are  you 
reading  it,  Marjorie  ?  You  and  your  mother  have 


THE  "  BEST  THING."  203 

good  times  together,  reading  books,  don't  you  ? " 
There  was  a  wistful  note  in  Glyde's  voice  ;  the 
home-life  in  this  bit  of  a  home  was  like  a  glimpse 
of  paradise  to  her.  Someway,  the  Douglass  family 
had  never  been  in  the  habit  of  having  much  home 
life. 

"  It  is  very  good,  I  believe,"  Marjorie  said  in 
differently.  "  At  least  mother  likes  it ;  and  Mr. 
Maxwell  considers  it  quite  a  masterpiece.  It  is 
unlike  anything  that  I  ever  read.  I  have  nol 
decided  what  I  think  about  it.  It  is  a  religious 
novel,  Glyde  ;  I  never  used  to  think  that  I  could 
be  made  to  care  for  religious  novels." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Glyde  quickly,  wondering 
if  possibly  her  opportunity  might  be  coming. 
There  were  words  that  she  wanted  to  speak  to 
Marjorie,  if  only  she  could  discover  just  the  right 
time. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  thought  you  would  not 
be  interested  in  them,  because  they  had  to  do  with 
religion  ?" 

"  N-o,  not  exactly  that ;  but  it  has  always  seemed 
to  me  as  though  religion  ought  to  have  to  do  with 
true  things  ;  and  as  though  fiction  were  not  its 
realm.  True  religion,  I  mean  ;  there  is  a  sham 
kind  which  I  despise  in  life,  and  in  books." 

"  Ah,  but  a  story,  a  good  story,  is  just  a  picture 
of  real  life,  I  think,"  said  Glyde  eagerly ;  "  and  if 
that  is  so,  religion  couldn't  be  left  out,  Marjorie. 
For  religion  has  to  do  with  real  life  ;  must  have, 
more  or  less,  whether  we  want  it  to  or  not." 


204  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Why  must  it  ?  "  asked  Marjorie,  amused.  Like 
Ralph  Bramlett,  she  had  always  thought  of  Glyde 
as  a  little  girl ;  she  found  herself  wondering  how 
much  the  child  could  talk  about  such  matters. 

"  Why,  because,"  said  Glyde,  with  great  earnest 
ness,  "  life  is  intertwined  with  it.  Not  with  re 
ligion,  perhaps,  either ;  1  do  not  know  that  I  can 
make  myself  clear ;  what  I  mean  is,  that  life  has 
to  do  with  the  facts  which  underlie  religion  ;  and 
must  have.  Why,  all  people  sin,  and  suffer,  and 
die,  you  know,  Marjorie, — I  was  going  to  say  that 
all  people  loved,  but  sometimes  that  does  not  seem 
so  certain  ;  but  the  other  three  cannot  be  denied, 
and  religion,  the  religion  which  I  am  talking  about, 
means  a  Saviour  from  sin,  and  right  living,  and 
eternal  life  ;  now,  how  can  these  be  ignored  in  any 
history  of  human  life  ?  When  one  stops  to  think 
of  it,  one  would  suppose  that  such  tremendous 
issues  as  these  must  have  to  do  with  all  stories 
that  are  worth  considering." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  suffering  ?  "  asked 
Marjorie,  with  sudden  gravity.  She  felt,  poor  girl, 
that  she  had  drank  the  cup  of  trouble  almost  to 
its  dregs ;  but  what  could  this  young  creature 
understand  as  to  the  first  syllable  of  its  meaning  ? 

"  Not  much,  of  course,"  said  Glyde,  with  sweet 
seriousness  ;  "  in  the  light  of  other  people's  expe 
riences  I  have  never  had  any  trouble  worthy  of 
the  name.  Yet,  young  girls  have  their  troubles, 
Marjorie  ;  and  petty  as  they  may  seem  to  others, 
and  to  themselves  afterwards,  they  are  hard  while 


THE  "  BEST  THING."  205 

they  Last.  One  of  the  wonders  about  Jesus  Christ 
is,  that  He  seems  able  to  sympathize  with  little, 
petty  troubles  as  well  as  great  ones."  She  was 
not  accustomed  to  speaking  of  Him  thus  familiarly ; 
the  effort  to  do  so  made  her  face  flush  and  her 
voice  tremble  a  little. 

Marjorie  regarded  her  curiously,  and  recognized 
the  subtle  change  which  had  been  so  noticeable  to 
the  Douglass  family. 

"  You  are  growing  into  a  woman,  Glyde,"  she 
said  ;  "  I  used  to  think  you  were  only  a  little  girl. 
Oh,  yes,  girls  have  their  troubles ;  I  remember 
that  mine  used  to  seem  very  large."  She  spoke  as 
though  her  own  girlhood  were  a  state  which  had 
been  put  far  into  the  past. 

"  So  you  have  gotten  where  you  like  religious 
books  ?  "  she  added,  still  regarding  Glyde  with  the 
air  of  one  who  was  trying  to  understand  some  new 
development.  "  You  would  enjoy  this  one,  then. 
It  is  a  pity  you  could  not  hear  it  read.  Mr.  Max 
well  is  an  excellent  reader,  and  is  so  entirely  in 
sympathy  with  the  chief  character  in  the  story, 
that  he  reads  as  though  he  were  telling  his  own 
experience." 

"  Is  Mr.  Maxwell  a  Christian  ?  "  There  was  no 
mistaking  the  eagerness  in  the  girl's  tone,  nor  the 
interested  light  which  suddenly  flashed  in  her 
eyes. 

Marjorie  could  not  repress  a  slight  laugh. 

"  Is  there  anything  so  very  wonderful  about 
that,  Glyde?"  she  asked.  "  Your  eyes  shine  like 


206  MAKING  FATE. 

stars.  Yes,  I  suppose  he  is  a  Christian  ;  in  fact,  I 
know  he  is ;  one  of  the  very  marked  kind  ;  he  puts 
his  religion  first,  I  fancy.  Does  that  awaken  your 
curiosity  to  see  how  he  does  it  ?  " 

"  It  rests  me,"  said  Glyde,  with  energy.  "  Did 
you  ever  think,  Marjorie,  how  very  few  Christian 
3'oung  men  we  have  ?  Almost  none,  indeed ;  there 
are  only  three  or  four  in  our  large  church,  and 
they  are  absent  from  home  most  of  the  time  ;  and 
when  they  are  here, — well,  they  are  not  the 
kind  of  Christians  I  am  talking  about.  But  there 
are  so  very  few.  Isn't  it  strange  ?  So  many  girls 
are  church-members,  and  most  of  the  boys  seem 
not  to  have  so  much  as  thought  of  such  things." 

"  How  many  of  the  girls  have  really  thought  of 
such  things  ? "  asked  Marjorie  cynically.  "  Do 
you  not  suppose  that  most  of  them  joined  the 
church  because  others  did,  or  because  it  seemed 
the  proper  thing  to  be  done  next  ?  Or  somebody 
that  they  wanted  to  please,  urged  them  to  do  so  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Glyde  sorrowfully  ;  "  I 
would  not  like  to  say  so.  One  would  not  like  to 
call  in  question  the  motives  of  others.  I  think  we 
have  acted  very  much  that  way,  all  of  us,  perhaps  ; 
I  have,  I  know ;  but,  oh,  Marjorie !  I  don't  want 
to.  I  didn't  join  the  church  simply  because  others 
did ;  I  joined  because  I  meant  it  from  my  soul ; 
but  I  haven't  lived  so,  I  know ;  I  have  lived  as 
though  religion  was  a  very  secondary  matter  in 
deed  to  me.  I  want  to  be  different ;  and  I  want 
others  to  be  different.  I  wish  I  knew  how  to 


THE  "  BENT  THING."  "207 

reach  and  help  somebody.  I  would  like  to  know 
this  Mr.  Maxwell,  if  he  is  the  kind  of  Christian 
you  think  ;  they  are  so  helpful,  such  people.  I 
met  one  or  two  in  New  York ;  I  had  only  a  few 
minutes'  conversation  with  them,  but  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  much  they  helped  me  !  "  Glyde  made  not 
the  slightest  attempt  to  analyze  the  feeling  which 
led  her  to  use  the  plural  pronoun  in  speaking  of 
her  interview  with  Mr.  Burwell. 

But  now  she  had  embarrassed  her  audience. 
Marjorie  had  not  had  the  least  expectation  of 
awakening  so  humble  a  confession.  Heretofore 
her  sarcastic  criticisms  in  these  directions  had  called 
forth  only  indignant  protests,  or  the  good-natured 
reminder  that  she  was  talking  about  something  of 
which  she  knew  nothing. 

Glyde's  tremulous  voice  and  humble  words  were 
of  another  world  than  any  which  Marjorie  knew. 
She  had  no  reply  ready  and  was  meditating  a  change 
of  subject,  to  muffins,  or  some  other  safe  common 
place,  when  Glyde  began  again.. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  wish,  Marjorie :  it  isn't  a 
new  idea — I  have  thought  about  it  a  great  deal  all 
this  week.  I  wish  with  all  my  soul  that  you  were 
such  a  Christian  as  you  could  be,  and  as  I  think 
37ou  surely  would  be  if  you  gave  your  heart 'to 
Christ's  guidance.  You  could  help  us  all  so  much. 
You  know  you  have  influence  among  those  who 
need  helping  in  this  very  direction.  They  are  used 
to  following  your  lead,  and  are  glad  to  do  so  ;  you 
could  almost  certainly  lead  them  toward  Christ. 


£08  MAKING  FATE. 

1h,  dear  Marjorie,  won't  you  think  about  this  matter 
seriously  ?  It  seems  to  me  I  have  thought  of  little 
else  since  the  idea  first  came  to  me ;  every  time  I 
have  prayed  I  have  asked  the  Lord  to  let  me  speak 
some  word  which  might  possibly  influence  you. 
Not  that  I  wanted  to  be  the  one  to  do  it.  I  was 
willing  that  anybody  should  do  it,  if  you  would 
only  listen,  and  take  hold  of  the  matter  with  the 
energy  which  you  give  to  other  things." 

Marjorie's  embarrass  me  nt  deepened  ;  she  was  as 
unaccustomed  to  direct  personal  appeals  upon 
this  subject,  as  Glyde  was  to  leading  in  a  re 
ligious  conversation.  She  was  deeply  moved,  too, 
for  almost  the  first  time  in  her  life.  As  she 
watched  Glyde's  expressive  face  and  thought  of 
what  she  had  known  of  her  heretofore,  she  told 
herself  that  here  was  a  genuine  experience.  Glyde 
knew  what  she  was  talking  about,  and  meant  what 
she  said.  And  behold  she  was  appealing  to  her, 
Marjorie  Edmonds,  for  help  in  a  direction  of  which 
she  knew  nothing.!  Glyde  waited  for  her  answer  ; 
it  was  evident  that  she  expected  one,  and  IVlarjorie 
did  not  know  how  to  frame  it. 

"  You  dear  little  girl !  "  she  said  at  last,  bend 
ing  over  and  kissing  the  flushed  cheek,  "  I  did  not 
mean  you  when  I  made  my  sweeping,  and,  I  pre 
sume,  ill-natured  remarks  about  a  certain  class 
of  church  members.  I  believe  in  you,  and  in  a  few 
other  people.  But  about  myself  ;  as  for  my  help 
ing  others,  you  are  wofully  mistaken  in  me  ; 
my  influence  is  a  mere  name.  The  girls  do  not 


TEE  "  BEST  THING."  209 

really  follow  my  lead  in  any  matter  of  importance, 
and  never  did.  It  is  well  perhaps  that  it  is  so,  for 
no  one  could  be  farther  away  from  leading  them 
in  the  right  direction  than  I  am.  And  I  never  felt 
my  influence  over  others  less,  or  felt  less  inclined 
to  exert  any  influence  than  at  this  time.  I  do  not 
want  any  one  to  follow  me,  I  am  sure  ;  I  am  too 
far  from  being  satisfied  with  the  road  I  am  travel 
ing,  to  desire  any  person  to  take  it  with  me." 

"  But,  Marjorie,  what  I  want  is  to  have  you 
follow  Christ,  and  follow  him  so  closely  that  the 
rest  of  us  who  are  not  so  strong  as  you,  will  be  led 
to  follow  in  your  way.  It  isn't  all  a  name,  Mar 
jorie,  just  joining  the  church  and  nothing  more. 
Believe  me,  there  is  a  reality  in  it,  and  a  help  such 
as  nothing  else  can  afford.  If  you  really  are  dis 
satisfied  with  yourself  I  am  sure  you  will  find  it  the 
very  thing  you  need.  But  I  confess  frankly  that 
I  was  not  thinking  so  much  of  your  needs  as  of 
those  of  others.  You  seem  so  self-reliant  always, 
that  I  cannot  realize  your  needs  as  well  as  I  can 
our  own.  It  is  the  same  with  Ralph.  I  was  say 
ing  something  of  this  kind  to  him  the  other  night. 
If  you  and  he,  I  told  him,  were  only  Christians,  such 
Christians  as  you  could  be;  it  seems  to  me  that 
you  could  take  all  our  circle  for  Christ  this  winter ; 
surely  that  would  be  an  ambition  worth  living  for  ! '' 

She  coupled  their  names  as  a  matter  of  course. 
This  young  girl  who  was  really  thinking  of  more 
important  matters  than  a  possible  coldness  between 
the  two,  had  forgotten,  if  she  had  ever  heard, 


210  MAKING  FATE. 

shrewd  surmises  of  trouble  between  them.  No 
one,  save  the  parties  immediately  concerned,  knew 
of  a  certainty  that  such  was  the  case.  It  happened 
that  this  season,  usually  so  gay,  was  one  of  marked 
quiet  in  their  circle,  owing  to  the  fact  that  there 
was  illness  of  a  more  or  less  serious  character  in 
the  families  of  two  of  their  number  ;  and  also 
because  several  of  the  young  people,  prominent  in 
their  set,  were  away  for  the  holidays.  Moreover, 
Ralph  Bramlett  had  not  found  his  new  position  the 
mere  sinecure  that  the  commercial  traveler  had 
almost  led  him  to  expect.  There  was  plenty  of 
work  to  be  done,  and  some  of  it  of  such  a  character 
as  to  require  over-hours  and  much  puzzling  to 
straighten  out.  It  came  to  pass  that  more  often 
than  otherwise  instead  of  coming  home  on  the  six, 
or  even  the  five-o'clock  express,  as  his  employers 
so  often  did,  he  was  likely  to  have  to  wait  for  the 
seven-thirty  accommodation,  and,  cold,  tired  and 
cross,  make  his  way  out  to  the  Bramlett  farm,  sup- 
perless,  some  time  after  the  hour  when  evening 
entertainments  generally  commenced.  Those  who 
knew  these  facts  and  knew  no  others,  saw  abun 
dant  reason  why  both  Ralph  and  Marjorie  were 
absent  from  the  few  entertainments  which  the 
more  courageous  planned  at  this  time.  Even 
Estelle  Douglass  was  not  sure  that  Ralph  had  not 
called  upon  Marjorie  a  number  of  times  during  the 
past  weeks. 

It  was  impossible  for  Marjorie  not  to  change  color 
under  the  sound  of  the  familiar  words  which  she 


THE  "BEST  THING."  211 

had  not  heard  for  so  long,  and  which  were  once  of 
almost  hourly  repeatal,  "  You  and  Ralph."  She 
looked  at  Glyde  closely  with  a  shade  of  suspicion. 
Had  she  grown  into  a  shrewd  young  woman,  and 
was  she  trying  in  this  way  to  win  confidences  which 
were  not  intended  for  her  ?  No,  Glyde's  face  was 
pure,  and  her  glance  free  and  sweet ;  to  act  a  part, 
however  small,  would  be  foreign  to  her  nature. 
Her  whole  heart  was  evidently  absorbed  in  mat 
ters  far  removed  from  such  as  those. 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  Marjorie  asked,  under  the 
power  of  the  thought  that  she  must  say  something; 
and  feeling,  too,  that  it  would  be  a  comfort  to  hear 
from  Ralph  even  at  second-hand. 

"  Oh,  not  much ;  he  is  skillful  at  evasion,  you 
know,  when  he  wishes  to  be.  I  had  very  little 
time  to  talk  with  him.  It  was  the  night  of  the 
Stoddard  lecture  ;  he  came  for  Estelle, — I  suppose 
because  he  knew  you  were  not  at  home ;  and  it  was 
only  while  we  were  waiting  for  her  to  come,  that  I 
had  any  chance." 

Marjorie  gave  a  little  start.  He  had  taken  Estelle 
to  the  lecture  then  !  She  had  not  heard  of  this  be 
fore.  She  had  been  in  town  that  day  on  a  shopping 
excursion ;  had  chosen  that  particular  day,  indeed, 
because  of  the  lecture,  and  the  thought  that,  for  al 
most  the  first  time  in  years,  when  a  lecture  of  impor 
tance  was  to  be  given,  Ralph  would  not  ask  her  to 
enjoy  it  with  him.  She  had  not  been  able  to  decide 
to  accept  Mr.  Maxwell's  invitation  to  her  mother  and 
herself  to  keep  him  company,  so  she  had  persuaded 


212  MAKING  FATE. 

that  watchful  mother  that  no  other  day  would  do 
for  their  important  shopping  in  town.  She  had 
been  tardy  with  her  shopping,  and  they  had  come 
out  on  the  accommodation.  Marjorie  told  herself 
it  was  because  they  had  been  necessarily  delayed, 
but  in  her  heart  she  knew  that  a  central  reason 
for  it  was  because  she  had  heard  that  Ralph 
often  took  that  train.  He  did  not  take  it  that 
evening,  though  she  watched  furtively  every  muf 
fled  traveler  until  the  train  was  well  out  of  the  sta 
tion.  She  thought  of  him  as  possibly  detained  for 
a  still  later  train.  For  some  reason  it  had  not  oc 
curred  to  her  that  he  would  be  at  the  lecture  with 
Estelle  Douglass  by  his  side. 

"  I  do  not  think  Ralph  is  interested,"  continued 
Glyde,  humbly.  "  I  do  not  suppose  my  words  to 
him  did  any  good ;  I  have  thought  since  that  per 
haps  they  even  did  harm.  But  how  easily  you 
could  influence  him.  He  is  always  so  ready  to 
join  you  in  any  way.  How  can  you  bear  not  to  use 
your  power?  He  needs  to  be  influenced  now,  I 
think,  more  than  ever  before." 

By  this  time  the  muffins  were  ready,  and  there 
came  a  summons  to  tea,  much  to  Marjorie's  relief. 
She  felt  that  she  could  not  have  borne  another 
word. 

To  the  surprise  of  the  girls,  Mr.  Maxwell  made 
a  fourth  at  the  table.  "Your  mother  tempted 
me,"  he  explained  gaily  to  Marjorie.  "  She  was 
taking  up  the  muffins  just  as  I  brought  the  mail. 
Of  course  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  say 


THE  "  BEST  THING."  213 

that  they  looked  like  my  mother's  ;  what  son  could? 
And  she  was  cruel  enough  to  consider  it  a  hint 
that  I  wanted  some  of  them  ;  though  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honor  that  no  such  thought  was  in  my 
mind." 

He  was  a  delightful  addition  to  the  family 
party.  Glyde,  who  was  at  first  inclined  to  be  half 
afraid  of  him,  frankly  admitted  this,  when  the  tea 
was  over.  At  all  times  a  good  talker,  he  exerted 
himself  on  this  occasion  apparently  to  entertain 
them  all.  In  his  heart  was  a  desire  to  relieve 
Marjorie  from  the  burden  of  talking.  She  looked 
so  wan  and  worn  that  he  could  not  help  feeling  a 
great  pity  for  her. 

One  significant  question  he  asked  Glyde,  at  least 
it  became  significant  because  of  her  answer.  "  It 
was  your  first  visit  to  New  York,  I  believe?  What 
was  the  best  thing  you  brought  away  from  there  ?  " 
The  questioned  was  awakened  by  a  passing  curios 
ity  to  know  how  this  young  creature  rated  life ; 
what  would  she  regard  as  a  " best  thing ?"•  Her 
quiet,  serious  answer  took  him  by  surprise. 

"  A  fuller  knowledge  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ* 
I  knew  Him  before ;  but  not  in  the  way  in  which 
I  met  Him  there,  nor  as  I  have  realized  His  pres 
ence  since. 

"  Then  you  brought  away  the  best  knowledge 
that  life  has,"  he  said  heartily.  "  It  is  not  possible 
to  improve  upon  that,  except  in  degree,  though  you 
should  live  a  hundred  years.  But  what  a  place  in 
which  to  find  such  a  pearl !  Mrs.  Edmonds,  does 


214  MAKING  FATE. 

not  such  testimony  go  far  toward  redeeming  the 
reputation  of  New  York?  Who  is  it  that  says 
4  We  find  what  we  are  looking  for  ? ' : 

It  was  found  to  be  a  not  difficult  task  to  per 
suade  Glyde  to  remain  for  the  evening  reading. 
She  confessed  her  hearty  desire  to  do  so ;  and  ex 
plained  that  she  had  looked  forward  to  an  evening 
alone  ;  for  the  girls  were  going  out,  and  as  father 
was  not  well,  mother  would  be  likely  to  spend  her 
evening  in  his  room  ministering  to  him.  No,  in  an 
swer  to  Mrs.  Edmonds's  careful  inquiry,  they  would 
not  be  troubled  by  her  late  coming ;  she  had  pre 
pared  them  for  that  by  saying  that  she  should  per 
haps  stop  at  Auntie  Bennett's  for  the  evening. 

"  Auntie  Bennett "  was  their  next-door  neighbor. 

They  presently  settled  themselves  for  an  hour 
of  enjoyment.  Marjorie  brought  out  her  work,  and 
Glyde  established  herself  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa 
beside  her,  with  a  view  to  helping,  and  the  reading 
began.  One  third  of  the  book  had  already  been 
read  aloud,  but  Mr.  Maxwell  showed  himself  to  be 
an  excellent  synoptist,  and  Glyde  was  a  good  ques 
tioner,  so  she  presently  had  a  very  fair  idea  of  the 
opening  chapters,  and  was  prepared  to  listen  to  a 
somewhat  elaborate  description  of  some  New  Year's 
calls. 

"•  They  had  a  better  time  with  New  Year's  calls 
than  I  do,"  she  announced,  in  one  of  the  pauses 
for  conversation  which  made  these  readings  so 
delightful.  "I  always  dread  New  Year's  day." 

"  Are   calls  from  your  friends;  particularly  dis- 


THE  "BEST  THING.1"  :215 

agreeable   to  you   on  that  day  ? "     Mr.  Maxwell 
asked. 

"  Oil,  I  do  not  receive  ;  not  formally.  I  have  al 
most  no  gentlemen  friends.  My  sisters  nearly  al 
ways  receive  with  some  of  their  particular  friends, 
and  the  callers  we  have  are  my  father's  business 
acquaintances,  who  keep  up  the  formality  more 
for  old  time's  sake,  than  because  they  particularly 
enjoy  it,  I  think.  Men  call  whom  my  father 
rarely  sees  at  any  other  time,  and  does  not  par 
ticularly'  care  to  see,  I  fancy  ;  but  they  sit  and 
talk,  ever  so  long,  and  drink  coffee,  which  I 
have  to  serve,  and  even  smoke,  some  of  them.  I 
have  to  be  in  attendance  all  the  time,  to  wait  on 
them  ;  the  most  of  them  pay  not  the  slightest  at 
tention  to  me ;  still  there  are  a  few  who  do  notice 
me,  and  then  I  wish  they  wouldn't.  I  am  always 
glad  when  the  day  is  over." 


216  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

"  ISN'T  IT  FUN  ?  " 

THE  talk  thus  started,  interrupted  the  progress 
of  the  book  for  some  time.  Glyde,  being  drawn 
out  by  questions  from  Marjorie,  gave  somewhat  in 
detail  her  experiences  of  a  year  before,  and  moved 
them  all  to  laughter  by  her  vivid  account. 

Marjorie  added  at  its  close,  with  some  vehemence, 
that  she  also  hated  New  Year's  calls,  and  hoped 
that  her  mother  would  not  consider  it  necessary 
that  they  should  be  victimized  this  year. 

"Well,  now,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  "  my  experience 
differs  from  yours.  I  like  the  old-time  custom 
well  carried  out ;  provided  I  can  have  the  ar 
ranging  of  my  '  program,'  do  not  know  any  other 
day  which  I  enjoy  better  than  the  first  one  of  the 
year." 

"Do  you  always  make  calls?"  asked  Glyde, 
and  her  tone  expressed  surprise. 

"  Always,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  May  I  know  why 
you  put  that  exclamation  point  into  your  voice  ?  " 

Glyde  laughed  and  blushed.  "  I  did  not  know 
there  was  an  exclamation  point  in  it,"  she  said, 
"but  I  confess  that  I  felt  surprised.  You  did  not 
impress  me  like  the  kind  of  man  who  makes  New 
Year's  calls." 


"ISN'T  IT  FUN?"  217 

They  could  not  help  laughing  over  this  ;  and  Mr. 
Maxwell  declared  his  inability  to  decide  whether 
he  had  been  complimented  or  otherwise.  Then 
he  said  : 

"  I  wonder  if  I  could  not  secure  some  allies  for 
my  calls  this  year  ?  I  do  not  know  many  people  in 
this  region,  and  my  enjoyment  will  be  limited,  I 
fear,  unless  I  can  take  friends  with  me.  How 
would  it  do  for  you  three  ladies  to  depart  from 
your  usual  custom,  and  make  calls  with  me?" 

Glyde's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Maxwell !  ladies  do  not  make  New 
Year's  calls,  do  they  ? 

"  Yes  indeed.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  taking 
ladies  with  me  on  several  occasion^.  You  see  the 
calls  which  I  plan  are  not  of  the  conventional 
order.  We  take  our  refreshments  with  us,  even 
to  the  coffee,  Miss  Douglass,  though  I  own  that 
sometimes  the  ladies  have  to  pour  it." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Glyde,  her  eyes  growing  bright, 
"  I  begin  to  understand ;  you  call  upon  poor 
people  ;  those  who  have  no  pleasant  holiday  save 
the  part  you  bring  them.  Is  that  it  ?  Must  not 
that  be  lovely,  Marjorie  ?  Oh  I  wish  I  do  could 
it !  I  would  like  to  go  and  call  on  some  of  those 
girls  I  saw  in  that  meeting  in  New  York,  and  take 
them  some  pretty  things,  and  have  some  good  talks 
with  them." 

"  New  York  is  too  far  away,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 
"Will  not,  'some  girls'  in  your  own  town  do?" 

In  short,  for  the  next  half-hour  the  book  was 


218  MAKING  FATE. 

practically  abandoned  while  they  discussed  with 
steadily  growing  interest  this  new  plan.  By  the 
tima  they  were  ready  to  return  to  the  story,  it  had 
been  decided  that  the  three  ladies  should  give 
themselves  up  for  the  entire  New  Year  afternoon 
to  Mr.  Maxwell's  directions  and  guidance.  It 
was  evident  that  he  knew  how  to  guide  them. 
To  Glyde's  exclamation  that  there  were  no  people 
in  her  owd  town  like  the  girls  she  meant,  he  had 
replied  that  if  a  town  having  ten  or  twelve  thou 
sand  people  in  it  could  be  found  who  would  not  be 
the  better  for  the  sort  of  calls  he  was  planning, 
then  that  town  must  be  ready  for  the  millennium. 
After  which  he  had  instanced  so  many  of  whom 
even  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  never  heard,  that  she 
frankly  admitted  his  superior  knowledge  in  certain 
lines  at  least,  of  the  town  where  she  had  spent 
twenty  years  of  her  life,  and  he  not  so  many 
weeks. 

New  Year's  day  dawned  in  glorious  beauty,  and 
was  welcomed  by  Gtyde  Douglass  for  the  first 
time  since  her  childhood  with  a  certain  gleefulness. 
Her  father  not  being  so  well  as  usual  this  winter, 
had  determined',  weeks  before  this,  not  to  receive 
his  old  acquaintances,  and  Glyde  was  therefore  at 
liberty.  The  girls  who  had  been  invited  to  join 
some  new  friends  of  theirs,  the  McAllisters,  and 
were  expecting  an  especially  exciting  day,  had 
time  only  to  question  Glyde  a  little  as  to  her 
plans,  and  to  exclaim  over  the  oddity  of  it  all,  and 
over  Majorie's  willingness  to  do  anything  out  of 


IT  FUN?"  219 

the  common  order,  however  "  pokey  "  it  might  be  ; 
but  Mrs.  Douglass  entered  with  some  zest  into  the 
preparations.  The  Douglass  family  were,  it  is  true, 
what  they  called  poor,  but  they  were  ready  to 
make  unlimited  cake  and  sandwiches  for  almost 
any  occasion ;  so  Glyde's  basket  was  well  stocked  ; 
and  it  was  with  very  bright  eyes  indeed  that  pre 
cisely  at  one  o'clock  she  opened  the  front  door  of 
their  home,  in  response  to  Mr.  Maxwell's  ring  and 
found  a  handsome  sleigh  awaiting  her  with  Mrs. 
Edmonds  in  the  back  seat  and  Marjorie  holding 
the  horses. 

"  Miss  Edmonds  was  good  enough  to  manage 
my  horses  during  several  stops  which  we  had  to 
make,"  explained  Mr.  Maxwell,  as  Glyde  wondered 
whether  she  was  to  have  the  honor  of  the  back  seat 
"and  therefore  it  became  necessary  to  separate 
her  from  her  mother.  I  will  leave  you  and  she  to 
decide  who  is  to  have  the  pleasure  of  sitting  with 
Mrs.  Edmonds  now.' 

"  Glyde,"  said  Marjorie,  "  would  you  be  afraid 
to  hold  these  animals  while  Mr.  Maxwell  stops  at 
the  express  office,  and  the  market,  and  the  con 
fectioner's,  and  a  dozen  other  places  ?  ' 

"  I  never  held  horses,"  said  Glyde,  her  eyes 
danolng,  u  but  I  think  I  could." 

"  Then  that  settles  it  ,•  I  shall  keep  my  place, 
and  lend  my  mother  to  you  ;  because  Mr.  Max 
well  stops  at  these  places  or  some  other,  every 
few  minutes,  and  my  mother's  neck,  at  least,  is 
much  too  precious  to  admit  of  any  aid  from 


220  MAKING  FATE. 

novices.  I  have  held  horses  before,  and  I  rather 
enjoy  holding  these." 

There  was  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes  which  her 
mother  had  not  seen  for  weeks ;  she  looked  almost 
like  her  own  bright  self  at  that  moment. 

They  were  off  like  the  wind  in  a  few  seconds 
more.  As  they  passed  the  McAllister  home,  where 
there  was  a  temporary  lull  from  the  stream  of 
callers,  Estelle  Douglass,  standing  by  the  window, 
exclaimed.  "  Isn't  that  a  splendid  turnout !  I 
declare,  if  that  isn't  Mrs.  Edmonds's  lodger,  and 
Marjorie  sitting  by  his  side  as  erect  as  a  princess  ! 
I  really  do  not  know  now  but  that  is  getting  to  be 
a  flirtation.  Somebody  ought  to  warn  Ralph 
Bramlett.  He  is  so  busy  nowadays,  poor  fellow, 
that  he  doesn't  have  time  to  look  after  her ;  and 
he  doesn't  drive  such  horses  as  those,  either." 

Entirely  oblivious  of  the  eager  tongues  which, 
thus  started,  were  used  for  some  time  in  discussing 
their  affairs,  the  sleighing  party  went  merrily  on 
its  way.  Mrs.  Edmonds  was  right  in  thinking  that 
her  daughter  seemed  more  like  herself,  but  she 
would  have  been  almost  sad  over  it,  perhaps,  had 
she  understood  how  much  effort  of  will  there  was 
about  the  matter.  These  holiday  seasons  were 
times  of  trial  to  Marjorie,  such  as  it  would  have 
been  hardly  possible,  for  one  not  in  full  sympathy 
with  her,  to  appreciate.  Christmas  and  New 
Year's  days  and  ail  the  days  between  had  been  so  dis 
tinctly  associated  with  Ralph  Bramlett  as  far  back  as 
her  memory  reached,  that  to  arrive  at  such  a^eason 


"ISN'T  IT  FUN?"  221 

with  all  association  entirely  cut  off,  had  about  it 
an  element  of  bewilderment.  Christmas  day  had 
been  more  endurable  because  she  had  learned  in 
cidentally  that  Ralph  had  been  suddenly  sent 
away  on  important  business  for  his  firm,  two  days 
before  the  holiday  season  opened ;  but  he  had  re 
turned,  and  the  same  busy  agents  who  are  sure,  in 
towns  of  this  size,  or  indeed  of  almost  any  size,  to 
report  in  certain  sets  the  doing  of  others,  informed 
her  that  he  intended  to  make  calls  as  usual.  It 
was  this  fact  more  than  any  other  which  had  made 
Marjorie  set  her  face  like  a  flint  against  keeping 
open  house  on  that  day.  Ralph  would  not  call,  of 
course  ;  it  would  be  almost  insulting  in  him  after 
ignoring  her  for  so  long,  to  come  on  a  day  when 
any  one  who  had  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  her 
was  at  liberty  to  call.  Nor  could  she  decide  to  sit 
smiling  and  talking  with  other  young  men,  know 
ing  that  Ralph  was  smiling  and  talking  with  per 
haps  Estelle  Douglass  at  the  moment ;  making  it 
apparent  at  last  to  everybody,  that  he  was  not  on 
calling  terms  with  her.  This  might  be  avoided  at 
least  a  little  longer  by  letting  it  be  distinctly 
known  that  their  home  was  not  open  to  guests  on 
New  Year's  day.  This  she  had  caused  to  be  made 
known.  Her  next  decision  had  been  that  she  would 
not  sit  moping  at  home  ;  for  her  mother's  sake  she 
would  rouse  herself  and  do  something  to  make  the 
day  pass  brightly.  Because  her  heart  ached,  was 
no  reason  why  she  should  selfishly  condemn  her 
mother  to  loneliness  and  silence.  Therefore  she 


222  MAKING  FATE. 

had  received  Mr.  Maxwell's  proposition  with  in 
terest  and  entered  into  it  with  a  stern  determina 
tion  to  be  herself  in  every  respect,  so  far  as  out 
ward  appearance  went.  She  succeeded  remark 
ably  well.  The  clear  frosty  air  was  exhilarating, 
and  Marjorie,  always  fond  of  horses,  liked  to  whirl 
along  the  streets  holding  these  splendid  specimens 
in  with  skillful  hands.  Not  a  little  to  her  surprise, 
she  also  enjoyed  the  call  which  they  presently 
made.  It  was  upon  a  teacher,  old  and  worn,  who 
with  his  old  bent  wife  occupied  two  rooms  in  a 
large  boarding-house,  and  did  Avhat  they  meekly 
called  "  light  housekeeping."  Mr.  Maxwell,  it 
appeared,  knew  that  their  housekeeping  was  very 
"light"  indeed.  That  their  suppers  consisted 
often  of  crackers  and  tea,  and  their  breakfasts  of 
bread  without  butter, — and  tea,  because  they  had, 
oh,  such  a  tiny  income  to  depend  u"pon,  and  when 
illness,  or  accident,  or  the  utter  giving  way  of 
some  long  mended  article  of  clothing  necessitated 
an  extra  expenditure,  the  butterless  bread  and  the 
very  weak  tea  followed  as  a  matter  of  dollars  and 
cents,  until  they  could  make  up  the  extra  sum. 
Think  what  it  must  have  been  to  set  out  the 
little  round  table  for  such  a  couple,  and  lade  it 
with  such  luxuries  as  turkey,  and  cranberry  sauce, 
and  delicious  home-made  bread,  and  butter  which 
nnelled  of  June  roses,  and  pie,  and  cake,  and  cheese, 
and  fragrant  tea,  and  many  another  dainty,  the 
like  of  which  the  old  teacher  and  his  old  wife  had 
not  seen  for  many  a  day.  Not  only  a  dinner  for 


"  !SN '  T  IT  FUN  f  "  1>23 

this  New  Year's  day  but  enough  to  crowd  the  meek 
little  cupboard  in  the  corner  with  dainties  to  last 
them  well  into  the  month.  It  was  such  a  delight 
as  even  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  never  before  experi 
enced.  Then  what  a  rare  pleasure  it  was  to  hear 
this  old  couple  talk  !  Glyde  Douglass  watched, 
and  listened  to  them  almost  with  awe.  How  old 
they  were !  How  white  were  their  hairs !  Yet 
they  were  refined  and  cultivated  and  sweet  and 
bright.  The  old  Professor  greeted  Mr.  Maxwell 
like  some  beloved  pupil  of  his  earlier  days,  called 
him  "My  dear  boy,"  yet  talked  with  him  about 
the  latest  deliverances  in  science,  and  the  recent 
paper  on  Anthropology  with  the  keen  relish  of  a 
man  who  kept  in  touch  with  the  present,  and  knew 
that  his  views  would  be  treated  with  respect. 
And  the  little  bent  woman  with  her  white  satin 
hair  and  her  dimming  eyes,  and  her  years  fast 
hastening  toward  fourscore,  had  yet  her  eager 
interests.  Had  they  heard  the  latest  news  from 
"our  mission"  in  Syria?  and  wasn't  it  blessed 
that,  in  that  land  of  all  others,  the  Name  above  every 
name  was  beginning  to  draw  the  people  ?  Glyde, 
listening  to  her,  learned  more  about  the  progress  of 
the  cause  of  Christ  in  that  far-away  portion  of  the 
earth  than  she  had  ever  known  before.  While 
they  listened,  they  worked,  she  and  Marjorie, 
making  everything  ready  for  the  feast  which  the 
two  were  to  have  \vhen  they  were  gone  ;  putting 
away  the  extra  packages  of  tea,  sugar  and  other 
extras  which  Mr.  Maxwell  had  marked  for  them. 


224  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Isn't  it  fun  ? "  whispered  Glyde,  while  Mr. 
Maxwell  replied  with  respectful  courtesy  to  the 
old  Professor,  and  Mrs.  Edmonds  listened  thought 
fully  and  interestedly  to  what  the  little  wife  was 
telling  her.  "  Isn't  it  fun  ?  And  isn't  it  grand  in 
him  to  think  of  such  fun  as  this  ?  "  And  Marjorie, 
her  eyes  bright  with  real  interest,  acknowledged 
that  it  was.  When  all  was  ready,  they  gathered 
round  the  fire  which  Mr.  Maxwell  had  replenished 
royally,  for  he  knew  that  a  coal  wagon  was  follow 
ing  in  his  train,  and  kneeling,  the  old  man  prayed 
such  a  prayer  as  the  patriarch  Jacob  might  have 
made  "  leaning  on  his  staff  "  ;  only  this  Jacob  never 
would  have  said:  "Few  and  evil  have  my  days 
been  " ;  his  heart  seemed  overflowing  with  gratitude 
and  good  cheer ;  and  the  little  old  wife,  suddenly 
reached  forth  a  trembling  hand  and  placed  it  ten 
derly  on  the  head  of  Marjorie  who  was  kneeling 
nearest  her,  and  whispered  low,  "  Bless  the  child 
even  with  a  father's  blessing/'  Did  her  sweet  fad 
ing  blue  eyes  discern  by  the  light  of  another  world 
than  this,  that  Marjorie  was  in  special  need  of  a 
blessing  ? 

"  It  is  the  nicest  time  I  ever  had,"  said  Glyde, 
when  they  had  shaken  hands  all  around  and  were 
in  the  sleigh  again.  "  Mr.  Maxwell,  I  do  not  in  the 
least  wonder  that  you  like  to  make  New  Year  calls, 
if  this  is  a  specimen  of  your  kind." 

But  they  were  not  all  like  this.  The  fourth  call 
was  in  quite  another  part  of  the  town,  where  the 
factory  tenement  houses  were.  Mr.  Maxwell 


"7S.VT  IT  FUN?"  225 

knocked  twice,  tried  the  door,  then  said  :  "I  think 
they  must  all  be  away  from  home.''  But  at  that 
moment  a  little  curly  head  appeared  at  the  window 
and  a  piping  voice  called  out :  "  We're  locked  in. 
Look  up  high  and  you'll  see  the  key."  Sure 
enough,  dangling  above  their  heads  was  a  small 
key  attached  to  a  string.  Mr.  Maxwell  reached 
for  it,  opened  the  door,  and  entered  with  his  party. 
A  small  room  with  a  bed  in  one  corner,  an  old 
table  in  another,  a  broken  stove  where  was  no  fire, 
and  children  everywhere  ;  five  of  them.  The  oldest, 
who  had  given  directions  about  the  door,  stood  and 
stared  curiously  at  her  visitors  ;  the  others  ran  and 
hid  behind  the  rickety  table  and  the  broken  chair. 

"  Well,  Marietta,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell  cheerily, 
"  Are  you  housekeeper  and  nurse  to-day,  as  usual  ? 
Where  is  your  mother  ?  I  thought  she  would  be 
at  home.  Isn't  this  a  holiday  at  the  mill  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  but  ma  went  to  wash  for  Mis'  Wheel- 
ock  ;  she  broke  her  leg  and  can't  wash ;  and  she 
promised  ma  some  old  clothes  and  a  bag  of  rneal 
if  she  would  come  ;  and  ma  says  she's  got  to  do 
extra  work  to  pay  for  the  doctor's  bill  and  things, 
when  Jimmie  was  sick." 

"  The  idea ! "  said  Mrs.  Edmonds.  "  A  mother 
with  five  little  children  leaving  them  alone  and 
going  out  to  wash  !  " 

"  On  New  Year's  da^it  that,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 
"  This  is  her  extra,  you  understand  ;  a  sort  of  holi 
day  entertainment ;  on  ordinary  days  she  works  in 
the  mill  from  six  in  the  morning  until  six  at  night. 


•226  MAKING  FATE. 

This  little  girl  is  the  woman  in  charge  during  her 
mother's  absence.  Was  she  afraid  to  let  you  have 
a  fire,  Marietta  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  stove  is  broke  so,  she  thought  it 
wouldn't  be  safe ;  the  baby  he  tears  around  the 
stove ;  and  Jimmie  ain't  much  better,  besides  we 
ain^t  got  much  coal ;  we  are  going  to  have  a  fire 
when  mother  gets  home,  and  some  potatoes ;  we 
ain't  had  our  dinner  yet."  «^» 

The  ladies  exclaimed  over  this  ;  such  a  condi 
tion  of  things  was  a  revelation  to  them,  but  Mr. 
Maxwell  seemed  to  have  heard  of  such  before. 
"  This  family  belongs  to  the  class  that  we  occasion 
ally  hear  of,"  he  said  to  Mrs.  Edmonds,  "called 
'  the  deserving  poor.'  The  mother  is  a  widow,  her 
husband  was  killed  last  fall  by  an  accident  at  the 
mills,  and  she  is  trying  to  support  her  five  children 
and  pay  doctor's  bills  and  funeral  expenses.  I  am 
at  a  loss  whether  to  give  the  children  their  treat, 
or  set  the  basket  out  of  their  reach  somewhere,  and 
let  the  mother  have  the  pleasure  of  ministering  to 
them  herself.  What  do  you  think?" 

It  was  Glyde  who  answered,  all  her  heart  in  her 
eyes.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Maxwell,  I  know  how  to  plan  it. 
Couldn't  you  let  me  stay  and  clear  up  this  room  a 
little  and  put  the  children  in  order,  and  set  the 
table,  and  make  things  a  little  bit  home-like  for 
the  mother's  coming?  I  should  like  to  do  it  ever 
so  much.  I  have  some  toys  and  picture-books  for 
the  children,  and  some  fresh  aprons  ;  I  could  make 
them  look  so  nice  in  their  mother's  eyes.  And 


"  I8N '  T  IT  FUN  f  "  227 

you  could  call  for  me  on  your  return,  could  you 
not?" 

Mr.  Maxwell's  eyes  were  almost  as  bright  as  the 
girl's.  "  I  could,  certainly,"  he  said,  "  if  you  are 
sure  you  want  to  be  left  here.  It  is  a  dreary  sort 
of  place  for  a  young  lady.  Mi's.  Edmonds,  what 
do  you  advise  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  there  could  be  a  fire,"  said  that  lady, 
doubtfully,  "  and  Glyde  is  willing,  of  course  it 
would  be  a  beautiful  thing  to  do,  but  I  should  not 
like  to  have  her  stay  in  the  cold." 

"  Oh,  there  must  be  a  fire,"  he  said  gayly,  "  I 
will  manage  that  part,  if  Miss  Douglass  will  engage 
to  keep  Jirnmie  and  the  baby  away  from  the  stove. 
Marietta,  where  do  you  keep  your  coal  ?  I'm  going 
to  make  a  fire,  and  this  lady  will  stay  awhile  and 
help  you  watch  it.  Tell  your  mother  that  the  coal- 
closet  will  be  filled  to  the  brim  before  night."  As 
he  spoke,  he  threw  off  the  heavy  cape  of  his  over 
coat  and  set  to  work  about  the  old  stove,  with  such 
skill  that  in  a  very  few  minutes  a  brisk  fire  was 
crackling  ;  and  the  children,  whose  noses  were  blue 
with  cold,  despite  the  sunshine  from  the  one  win 
dow  which  the  mother  had  counted  upon  for 
warming  them,  began  to  creep  out  from  their 
hiding-places  and  crow  and  gurgle  over  the  sense 
of  cheer  and  warmth. 

"She  really  enjoyed  the  thought  of  staying  to 
help  them  ; "  Mrs.  Edmonds  said  of  Glyde,  as  the 
sleigh  sped  away  without  her.  "  Did  you  see  how 
bright  her  face  was  over  the  thought  of  the  changes 


228  MAKING  FATE. 

she  could  make  ?  It  was  a  beautiful  thing  to  do. 
Some  girls  would  not  have  been  willing  to  sacrifice 
themselves  in  that  way.  Glyde  is  very  fond  of 
sleigh-riding,  too,  and  gets  extreme^  little  of  it. 
Her  two  elder  sisters  have  all  the  extras  in  that 
home.'* 

"  She  can  make  changes,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell.  "  I 
have  a  sufficiently  vivid  imagination  to  be  able  to 
foresee  what  a  difference  a  little  soap  and  water 
will  make  there,  to  say  nothing  of  a  f^^uprons  ; 
I  think  she  spoke  of  aprons?  It  is  fascinating 
work.  I  confess  I  do  not  wonder  that  it  caught 
her.  Nevertheless,  it  is  true,  as  you  say,  that 
some  young  women  would  not  have  been  so  caught. 
Do  you  remember  that  Miss  Douglass  told  us  the 
other  night  that  the  best  thing  she  had  brought 
away  from  New  York  was  a  more  intimate  ac 
quaintance  with  Jesus  Christ  ?  I  was  struck  with 
her  words.  She  shows  marks  of  the  intimacy." 

Marjorie  said  no  word.  In  her  heart  she 
wondered  why  Glyde  had  done  this  thing.  There 
was  not  dire  necessity  for  it ;  the  children  were  as 
well  off  as  they  were  on  most  days,  probably,  and 
would  be  again.  She  could  not  have  done  it ;  not 
that  she  wanted  to  ride,  or  cared  for  the  ride  ;  she 
simply  could  not  have  brought  herself  to  the  effort. 
Once  she  could ;  but  not  now.  She  did  not  want 
anything.  Was  her  heart  dead?  So  that  she 
cared  not  for  her  own  pleasure,  nor  for  the  com 
fort  of  others  ?  If  she  had  that  "  intimate  acquaint 
ance  "  of  which  Mr.  Maxwell  spoke,  would  it 
make  a  difference  with  her  ? 


44  YOU  PRAY:*  229 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"  YOU  PEAY." 

THEIR  next  call  was  at  a  very  different  place. 
A  speck  of  a  home ;  part  of  a  tenement  house,  but 
the  part  that  they  entered  looking  very  unlike 
the  rest.  The  doorstep  was  clean,  the  coarse 
white  curtains  at  the  windows  were  clean,  and  a 
pot  of  geraniums  in  the  window  bloomed  as  though 
they  did  it  for  very  delight  in  life.  The  small 
room  was  in  perfect  order,  and  a  bright  fire  glowed 
in  the  bit  of  a  cook-stove.  The  furnishings  were 
very  few  and  plain.  The  only  easy-chair  the 
room  contained,  was  drawn  close  to  the  front 
window,  and  in  it  sat  a  woman  of  middle  age,  who 
smiled  on  them  as  they  entered,  in  response  to  her 
invitation,  but  made  no  effort  to  rise. 

"  I'm  glad  enough  to  see  you,"  she  said,  holding 
out  her  hand  to  Mr.  Maxwell.  "  I've  been  think 
ing  you  would  remember  me,  ever  since  you  told 
me  that  you  sometimes  made  New  Year's  calls. 
Oh,  yes,  I'm  quite  alone.  Jim  couldn't  take  a 
holiday  ;  a  boy  who  has  a  helpless  mother  to  sup 
port,  cannot  stop  for  holidays  ;  he  managed  to  find 
some  overwork,  for  which  he  will  get  extra  pay  ; 
he  went  off  as  gay  as  a  lark  this  morning,  telling 


230  MAKING  FATE. 

me  he  would  have  an  extra  supper  to-night  in 
honor  of  New  Year's.  There  never  was  such  a 
boy,  ma'am,  as  my  Jim."  This,  to  Mrs.  Edmonds, 
who  had  been  duly  introduced  and  seated.  In 
response  to  some  kindly  question,  the  mother  was 
glad  to  go  OR. 

"  Yes,  he's  my  only  one.  I  buried  the  others 
when  they  were  babies  ;  but  Jim  lived  ;  and  what  I 
should  have  done  without  him,  I  can't  even  guess  ; 
it  makes  me  tremble  sometimes,  merelyj^think  of 
it.  You  see,  ma'am,  I'm  a  cripple.  I  have  to  be 
lifted  from  the  bed  to  the  chair,  and  from  the  chair 
back  to  the  bed  again.  Just  as  much  trouble  as  a 
baby  would  be.  It  is  going  on  four  years  since 
I've  taken  a  step.  It's  rheumatism,  ma'am,  and 
taking  cold,  being  exposed,  you  know,  to  all  sorts 
of  weather.  I'm  a  widow.  Yes,  I've  seen  hard 
times.  My  husband  was  unfortunate  ;  as  good- 
hearted  a  man  as  ever  lived,  and  a  skillful  work 
man  if  he  could  have  let  the  drink  alone ;  but  he 
couldn't ;  the  temptations  were  too  much  for  him. 
He  worked  for  Snyder  and  Co.,  the  big  distillery 
men,  and  the  sight  and  smell  of  the  stuff  seemed 
to  get  into  his  very  bones.  There  were  a  few 
years  when  I  lived  in  mortal  terror  lest  my  Jim 
should  follow  his  father;  but  he  didn't;  he's  as 
good  as  gold,  and  I  have  everything  to  be  thankful 
for.  He  fixes  me  up  like  this  every  morning  be 
fore  he  goes  away ;  and  here  I  sit  until  he  gets 
back  at  night.  Jane,  next  door,  comes  in  at  noon 
and  gives  me  my  bit  of  dinner,  and  she  fixes  it 


"YOU  PRAY."  231 

most  as  nice  as  Jim  could  ;  she  works  near  by,  so 
she  can  run  home  at  noon,  but  Jim  doesn't ;  she's 
a  good  girl  as  ever  was  ;  and  couldn't  be  kinder  to 
me  if  I  was  her  mother.  You  see,  she  and  Jim 
are  going  to  get  married  if  they  ever  can,  poor 
things  ;  but  I  don't  see  how  they  ever  can,  while 
I'm  alive ;  and  yet  they  do  every  blessed  thing 
they  can  to  keep  me  here,  both  of  them.  Yes,  I 
don't  deny  that  I  get  pretty  lonesome  before  six 
o'clock  sometimes;  if  I  could  read  a  little,  it  would 
be  different;  but  my  eyes  are  pretty  well  used  up  ; 
the  trouble  settled  in  them  one  time,  and  I  liked 
to  have  lost  them  both  ;  they  won't  read,  and  they 
won't  sew;  but  that  last  is  of  no  consequence,  for 
my  hands  are  so  twisted  that  I  couldn't  hold  the 
work ;  still,  my  eyes  are  a  good  deal  of  use,  for  I 
can  see  the  folks  passing,  and  I  can  watch  the  sun 
setting.  We  have  beautiful  sunsets  out  of  this 
window.  Oh,  I've  lots  of  blessings.  Isn't  it  a 
comfort  to  be  kept  so  clean  and  neat  all  the  while  ? 
I  was  a  master  hand  for  cleaning,  when  I  could 
get  around,  and  Jim  declares  I  shan't  pine  for  soap 
and  water,  anyhow.  And  Sundays,  Jim  reads  to 
me  all  the  morning  ;  and  Jane  she  comes,  in  the 
afternoon,  and  she  reads  some,  and  sings,  she  and 
Jim  sing  beautiful;  and  we  have  a  bit  of  tea  to 
gether  ;  oh,  Sunday  is'just  heaven  !  I  have  to  live 
all  the  week  on  the  reading  I  get  Sundays."  She 
glanced  at  the  little  table  where  lay  a  book  and 
two  papers.  "  Jim  brought  me  them  this  morn 
ing;  he  thought  Jane  would  be  at  home  to-day, 


232  MAKING  FATE. 

and  I  could  have  some  reading  for  New  Year's, 
but  he  hadn't  been  gone  an  hour  when  she  came  to 
tell  me  that  she  had  got  a  chance  to  earn  an  extra 
dollar ;  and  away  she  went ;  she  don't  let  no  extra 
dollars  slip  through  her  fingers ;  she's  too  eager  to 
help  Jim  for  that." 

It  was  a  phase  of  life  utterly  unknown  to  Mar- 
jorie.  This  clean  bright  elderly  woman  sitting  in 
her  chair  from  which  she  could  not  move,  count 
ing  her  mercies,  and  rejoicing  over  "Jim  and 
Jane."  As  Marjorie  thought  of  them  and  of  the 
pleasant  times  they  must  have  together  caring  for 
the  grateful  mother,  she  felt  that  she  could 
almost  envy  them  ;  the  tears  actually  started  in 
her  eyes,  and  she  moved  toward  the  other  window, 
to  hide  her  feelings. 

"  Miss  Edmonds,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  "  will 
you  help  me  unpack  this  basket  and  arrange  the 
goods  in  Mrs.  Baxter's  cupboard  ? "  Marjorie 
went  at  once,  and  busied  herself  with  the  pack 
ages.  Her  mother  was  still  talking  with  the 
crippled  woman.  She  came  over  to  Mr.  Maxwell 
presently,  smiling  as  she  spoke : 

"  I  believe  I  have  caught  Glyde's  disease.  I 
would  like  to  stay  here  a  little  while  and  read  to 
this  poor  woman.  Don't  you  think  she  has  a  letter 
from  her  sister  in  Scotland  ;  the  postman  brought 
it  this  morning,  and  she  is  waiting  for  evening 
and  '  Jim,'  or  '  Jane,'  in  order  to  hear  it !  Have 
you  another  errand  which  you  and  Marjorie  could 
do,  while  I  read  that  letter  and  a  scrap  or  two 


"YOU  PRAY."  '233 

from  the  paper,  and  a  few  verses  from  the  '  book  '  ? 
That  is  the  way  she  speaks  of  the  Bible.  *  Jim 
always  reads  a  few  verses  from  the  book,'  she  says  ; 
'  before  he  puts  me  to  bed.'  ' 

Mr.  Maxwell  signified  his  entire  willingness  to 
carry  out  his  part  of  the  programme,  and  of  course 
there  was  nothing  for  Marjorie  but  assent.  She 
was,  however,  not  disturbed,  but  the  rather,  amused 
by  this  turn  of  affairs. 

"Is  there  not  some  old  woman  or  baby  with 
whom  you  can  leave  me?'  she  asked,  laughing, 
as  they  drove  away  "  then  you  might  take  your 
drive  in  peace  and  quietness." 

"  What  if  we  should  take  the  drive  first?"  he 
asked.  "I  have  only  one  more  call  on  my  list; 
we  shall  probably  be  detained  there  but  a  moment, 
and  I  am  afraid  the  letter  from  Scotland  will  not 
have  been  read  by  the  time  we  could  return.  I 
am  disposed,  if  you  do  not  object,  to  drive  out  on 
the  foundry  road  for  a  mile  or  two.  The  sleigh 
ing  is  exceptionally  good  on  that  road,  and  Selim 
and  his  frend  are  impatient  for  one  real  spin." 

It  was  a  regular  "  spin."  His  own  fine  horse  was 
well  mated,  and  being  allowed  free  rein,  they  fairly 
flew  over  the  road.  The  sleighing  was,  as  Mr. 
Maxwell  had  said,  superb,  and  despite  her  belief 
that  her  heart  was  dead,  Marjorie  could  not  help 
enjoying  the  exhilarating  motion.  It  was  when 
they  were  on  the  return  trip  that  the  blood  flowed 
in  unnatural  waves  intoherface  and  then  receded, 
for  there  passed  them,  also  making  rapid  speed,  a 


234  MA-KING  FATE. 

single  sleigh  in  which  were  seated  Ralph  Bramlett 
and  Estelle  Douglass.  Ralph  had  departed  from 
his  usual  custom,  then,  and  instead  of  making 
New  Year's  calls  was  giving  the  day  to  Estelle. 
A  sudden  conviction  came  to  Marjorie  that  the  two 
were  engaged ;  and  with  it  the  feeling  that  if  this 
were  so,  she  ought  not  to  even  think  of  Ralph  any 
more.  She  could  not  know,  of  course,  that  Estelle 
instead  of  taking  a  sleigh  ride  should  have  been 
at  that  moment  in  the  McAllisters'  parlors  receiv 
ing  calls  ;  nor  that  she  had  said  to  Ralph  who  came 
iQ  his  sleigh  to  call,  that  she  was  "  just  dying " 
for  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  the  rooms  had  been  so 
crowded  and  so  over-heated  all  day.  Didn't  he 
want  to  take  her  a  few  rods  up  the  road  until  she 
could  get  her  breath  ? 

Now  Ralph  had  determined  in  his  own  strong 
mind  that  the  very  next  call  he  made  should  be 
upon  Marjorie  Edmonds.  Also  that  he  would  act 
as  though  he  supposed  of  course  that  she  was  re 
ceiving,  as  usual ;  and  perhaps  he  would  make  a 
formal  call,  just  as  any  gentleman  of  slight  acquain 
tance  with  her  might  do  ;  he  would  be  guided  by 
circumstances.  Having  decided  while  he  was  at 
the  McAllisters'  upon  this  sudden  course  of  action, 
he  chafed  under  the  delay  involved  in  taking 
Estelle  for  that  breath  of  fresh  air;  but  he  could 
not  well  refuse  a  point-blank  request  of  the  kind. 
And  then,  they  had  passed  Selim  and  his  friend 
rushing  over  the  ground,  with  Mr.  Maxwell  and 
Marjorie.  This  was  Estelle's  opportunity. 


"YOU  PRAY."  235 

"  Upon  my  word !  matters  are  really  getting 
serious  in  that  direction.  What  do  you  mean, 
Ralph,  by  allowing  it  ?  Glyde  says  the  Edmonds 
lodger  spends  all  his  evenings  with  the  family, 
reading  aloud,  and  visiting ;  he  even  takes  tea 
there  very  frequently.  Glyde  is  cultivating  an 
intimacy  with  Marjorie  since  she  came  home, 
and  is  always  meeting  Mr.  Maxwell.  She  was  to 
drive  with  them  to-day;  she  and  the  mother 
Edmonds,  for  appearance's  sake  I  suppose ;  but 
they  have  done  something  with  both  of  their  com 
panions  and  are  whirling  along  quite  alone.  They 
have  been  out  since  noon.  I  must  say  that  if 
people  did  not  know  that  you  and  Marjorie  be 
longed  to  each  other,  it  would  look  like  a  serious 
matter.  As  it  is,  it  looks  queer.  Do  you  honest 
ly  enjoy  such  goings  on  ?  Excuse  my  asking 
the  question ;  we  are  friends  of  such  long  stand 
ing." 

Ralph  was  white  to  his  lips,  but  his  voice  was 
perfectly  steady.  "  You  have  an  alarming  way  of 
taking  things  for  granted,  Estelle.  Why  should 
people  suppose  that  they  know  so  much  about  my 
affairs  ?  I  have  never  taken  them  into  confidence. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  Maxwell  is  at  liberty  to 
take  Marjorie  Edmonds  for  as  many  drives  as  he 
pleases ;  I  mean  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  never 
meant  to  be  selfish  in  my  friendships.  I  might  as 
well  say  I  did  not  like  to  have  you  ride  out  with 
your  friends,  as  to  object  to  her  doing  it.  Once 
for  all,  Estelle,  Marjorie  Edmonds  is  on  exactly  the 


236  MAKING  FATE. 

same  footing  with  me  as  are  my  other  old  friends ; 
and  she  is  nothing  more." 

"  I  am  very  glad, "  said  Estelle,  with  so  much 
feeling  in  her  voice  that  he  could  not  doubt  it. 
"  Glad  for  your  sake,  I  mean.  Forgive  me,  Ralph, 
for  saying  so ;  I  might  have  known  that  you  were 
man  enough  to  look  after  your  own  interests  ;  but 
I  felt  so  sure,  from  things  that  Glyde  has  told  me, 
and  from  what  I  have  seen,  and  heard  myself, 
that  Marjorie  was  getting  very  deeply  interested 
in  Mr.  Maxwell,  that  I  feared,  I  really  did,  that 
there  was  trouble  in  store  for  you." 

Ralphed  laughed,  a  harsh  unmusical  laugh,  and 
begged  her  not  to  borrow  any  ^rouble  on  his  account. 

But  all  this,  of  course,  Marjorie  did  not  know. 
She  was,  at  that  moment,  being  helped  from  the 
sleigh  in  front  of  one  of  the  dreariest  tenement 
houses  at  which  they  had  stopped  that  day. 

"  I  am  very  much  interested  in  the  woman  I  am 
going  to  take  you  to  see,"  Mr.  Maxwell  had 
told  her  as  they  drove.  "  She  is  a  young  wife, 
and  an  unhappy  one.  She  married  a  poor  victim 
of  Snyder,  Snyder  and  Co.'s  business.  Married 
him  not  knowing  how  deeply  he  drank,  I  believe ; 
and  has  learned  it  since,  to  her  terror  and  horror. 
He  is  one  of  the  cruel  kind,  when  he  is  intoxicated  ; 
has  actually  kicked  her  more  than  once  !  and  she 
is  a  slight,  frail  creature.  It  makes  my  blood  boil. 
when  I  think  of  what  she  has  suffered  already 
from  that  man  ;  and  what  she  must  suffer  if  she 
lives.  The  last  time  I  saw  her  she  was  ill  with  a 


"YOU  PRAY."  237 

violent  cold ;  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  per 
haps  that  was  to  be  her  way  out  of  the  tragedy 
which  she  has  made  of  life  ;  but  I  do  not  know ; 
those  frail  creatures  sometimes  live  and  suffer." 
Will  you  give  her  some  of  those  oranges  you 
brought,  Miss  Edmonds  ?  I  have  a  basket  of 
nourishing  food  for  her ;  she  looks  to  me  as  though 
she  might  be  quietly  and  systematically  starving 
herself."  Then  they  had  knocked  at  the  dreary 
door  again  and  again,  receiving  no  reply.  Mr. 
Maxwell  looked  above  and  around  him  for  a  key. 
"  This  cannot  be  another  case  of  locking  in,  I  should 
think,"  he  said,  "  for  she  and  her  worthless  husband 
live  alone.  I  should  like  to  lock  him  in  and 
leave  him  until  he  acquired  some  sense,  but  I  am. 
afraid  she  would  not  resort  to  any  such  measures. 
Miss  Edmonds,  I  am  going  to  open  this  door ;  it 
is  not  locked,  and  I  have  a  sort  of  presentiment 
that  something  may  be  wrong."  Saying  which, 
he  turned  the  knob  and  as  the  door  swung  open 
there  was  revealed  to  them  the  face  of  a  figure  on 
the  bed,  who  seemed  to  Marjorie  to  be  all  eyes. 
"  I  said  '  come  in,'  "  she  explained,  "  but  I  could 
not  speak  loud  enough."  Even  this  brief  explana 
tion  was  given  with  difficulty,  the  speaker  stopping 
again  and  again,  and  panting  for  breath.  Mr. 
Maxwell  looked  inexpressibly  shocked. 

"  You  are  suffering  very  much ; "  he  said. 
"  How  can  we  help  you.  Are  you  alone  ?  " 

She  nodded  her  head ;  explaining,  again  with 
great  difficulty  that  her  neighbor  on  the  left  was 


238  MAKING  FATE. 

kind,  and  often  looked  in  to  help  her,  but  to-day 
she  was  gone  away  and  the  folks  on  the  right 
didn't  speak  to  her.  Then,  gathering  all  her 
strength  she  put  it  into  an  earnest  question, 
"  Could  you  find  my  Jack  ?  I  don't  want  anything 
else ;  I  haven't  seen  him  in  four  days  ;  and  I  must 

see  him  again  before "  She  did  not  finish  her 

sentence ;  it  was  only  too  evident  what  she  meant. 

"  I  will  try ; "  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  "  and  I  will 
bring  you  a  doctor,  right  away ;  you  must  have 
help." 

She  tried  to  shake  her  head  and  to  explain  again 
about  the  only  thing  she  wanted ;  but  a  terrible 
paroxysm  of  coughing  seized  her.  Mr.  Maxwell 
supported  her  head  as  well  as  he  could,  and  Mar- 
jorie  came  in  haste  with  a  cup  which  seemed  to 
contain  water.  The  woman  tried  to  take  a  swallow, 
and  presently  fell  back  utterly  exhausted.  Mr. 
Maxwell  tiptoed  from  the  room,  motioning  Marjorie 
after  him.  "  She  has  gone  down  with  incredible 
rapidity,"  he  said.  "  It  is  three  weeks  since  I  last 
saw  her.  Could  you,  would  it  be  possible  for  you 
to  remain  here  while  I  go  for  a  doctor  and  some 
help?  The  houses  on  either  side  seem  to  be  de 
serted,  and  we  cannot  leave  her  alone,  can  we  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Marjorie,  "  we  cannot ;  I  will  stay, 
of  course."  But  never  in  her  life  had  she  so  shrank 
from  what  was  a  manifest  duty.  If  her  mother 
were  only  here !  He  saw  the  thought  in  her 
eyes. 

"  I  will  get  your  mother  as  soon  as  I  can,  Miss 


"  YOU  PRAY."  i::,9 

Edmonds,  but  she  is  quite  a  distance  from  here, 
remember ;  and  I  think  there  should  be  a  physi 
cian  without  delay.  The  woman  looks  to  me  as 
though  she  were  dying."  He  was  untying  and 
unblanketing  his  horses  while  he  spoke,  and  with 
the  last  word  was  off.  Marjorie  returned  to  the 
apparently  dying  woman.  A  great  terror  was  upon 
her  heart.  What  if  the  poor  creature  should  die 
while  Mr.  Maxwell  was  away?  She  could  not 
help  feeling  that  in  such  a  case  the  woman  might 
as  well  be  utterly  alone,  for  all  the  help  her  pres 
ence  could  afford.  What  did  she  know  about 
death  ?  She  had  never  in  her  life  seen  any  one 
die.  To  her  childish  eyes  her  father  had  looked 
much  as  usual  on  that  last  night  when  he  had 
kissed  her,  and  smiled  on  her  and  held  his  hand 
on  her  head  while  he  prayed  for  her  ;  and  then  she 
had  gone  away  and  slept, — and  in  the  morning  her 
mother  had  told  her  gently,  very  gently,  trying  to 
smile  through  her  tears,  that  the  angels  had  come 
in  the  night  and  carried  her  father  away  to  his 
beautiful  home.  But  it  was  not  possible  to  sur 
round  this  dying  bed  with  any  idea  of  beauty,  or 
any  suggestion  of  angels.  The  woman  was  in 
mortal  suffering;  was  in  need  of  help,  and  she 
could  not  help  her.  The  extreme  exhaustion 
which  followed  the  last  paroxysm  of  coughing,  did 
not  pass  ;  Marjorie  moistened  her  lips,  bathed  her 
forehead,  and  fanned  her  gently  ;  but  the  gray 
pallor  which  had  overspread  the  woman's  face, 
deepened,  rather  than  lessened.  She  looked  at  Mar- 


240  MAKING  FATE. 

jorie  with  great  hungry  eyes  that  had  a  mute  ap 
peal  in  them  which  was  worse  than  words. 

"What  is  it?"  the  girl  asked,  gently,  holding 
herself  to  outward  quiet  by  a  supreme  effort.  "  Is 
there  something  I  can  do  for  you  ?  Try  to  bear  it 
for  a  few  minutes  ;  Mr.  Maxwell  has  gone  for  the 
doctor,  and  for  my  mother ;  they  will  be  able  to 
do  something  to  help  you."  But  the  hungry  look 
remained  in  those  great  sad  eyes ;  the  power  of 
speech  seemed  to  have  left  her.  At  last,  evidently 
summoning  her  waning  strength  for  one  mighty 
effort  she  spoke  distinctly  one  word  :  "  Pray." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Marjorie  with  blanching  face,  and 
her  voice  sounded  like  a  groan,  "  I  cannot  pray !  " 
slie  looked  like  one  in  mortal  terror ;  she  turned 
and  gazed  beseechingly  toward  the  door  ;  if  Mr. 
Maxwell  would  only  come  ;  if  anybody  would  come 
who  knew  how  to  pray !  Could  she  let  this 
woman  die  with  that  one  beseeching  word  on  her 
lips,  receiving  no  response  ?  Yet  how  was  it  pos 
sible  for  her  to  pray  ?  To  attempt  such  a  thing 
she  felt  would  be  mockery.  She  knew  much, 
theoretically,  of  the  character  of  God.  She  had 
learned  many  verses  in  her  childhood;  verses 
which  indicated  His  willingness  to  hear  the  feeblest 
ciy.  They  thronged  about  her  now  and  pressed 
her  with  their  questions.  Ought  she  not  to  try  to 
speak  for  this  departing  soul  ?  He  would  know  that 
her  words  were  sincere,  and  that  she  did  not  know 
how  to  pray.  Under  the  spell  of  those  solemn 
inquiring  eyes  which  seemed  to  burn  into  her  soul, 


"YOU  PRAY."  241 

she  dropped  upon  her  knees,  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  cried  out :  "  O  God  have  mercy  on 
this  woman  for  Christ's  sake,  and  give  her  what 
she  needs."  Just  that  sentence,  nothing  more. 
"  Pray  ;  "  said  the  voice  again,  from  the  bed  ;  and 
she  repeated  the  same  sentence  again,  and  yet 
again  :  no  others  came  to  her.  After  a  little,  she 
arose,  and  continued  her  small  ministrations,  bath 
ing  the  temples,  moistening  the  white  lips,  trying 
meantime  to  find  the  thread  of  life  in  the  woman's 
wrist ;  for  her  eyes  had  closed,  and  she  was  lying 
again  as  one  dead.  The  sound  of  bells  broke  on 
the  intolerable  stillness,  and  in  a  moment  more, 
Marjorie  heard  Mr.  Maxwell's  step  at  the  door. 
He  came  swiftly  over  to  the  bedside,  and  spoke  to 
her  in  a  low  tone.  "  The  doctor  will  be  here  in  a 
few  minutes.  I  did  not  wait  to  get  your  mother  ; 
she  is  a  mile  away  in  the  other  direction,  and  I 
thought  perhaps  you  would  prefer  to  have  me  wait 
until  the  doctor  came,  before  going  for  her.  Has 
your  patient  made  any  sign  of  life  ?  " 

Before  Marjorie  could  reply,  the  great  troubled 
eyes  opened  once  more,  but  they  seemed  not  to  see, 
and  fixed  themselves  on  vacancy.  Her  lips  moved 
and  formed  distinctly  that  one  word  again,  lower 
than  it  was  before  ;  just  a  faint  shadow  of  a  word 
now :  "  Pray." 

Mr.  Maxwell,  bending  to  listen,  caught  the 
word  and  was  on  his  knees  in  a  moment ;  Marjorie 
knelt  beside  him  ;  it  was  so  good  to  have  one  who 

could  pray  !     Then  the  poor  woman's  needs  were 
16 


242  MAKING  FATE. 

presented  before  the  King,  in  the  words  of  one 
who  had  long  known  how.  Earnest,  direct,  in  lan 
guage  simple  as  a  child  would  use,  it  seemed  to 
Marjorie  that  no  human  speech  could  be  better 
fitted  to  her  needs.  Yet  there  was  a  restless  move 
ment  of  the  sick  woman's  hands  ;  presently  she 
turned  her  eyes  and  sought  Marjorie's  face,  and 
said  in  a  solemn  whisper:  "  You  pray."  Mr. 
Maxwell  looked  well-nigh  as  startled  as  Marjorie 
herself  had  done.  He  knew  that  whatever  ability 
this  young  girl  might  have  to  minister  to  human 
pain,  she  had  not  learned  this  supreme  need  of 
the  soul. 

"  Miss  Edmonds,"  he  said,  "  she  is  asking  you 
to  pray." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Marjorie  again,  in  bitter  anguish, 
"/  cannot  pray  /"  Why  does  she  want  it  when 
you  are  here  ?  Kneel  down,  Mr.  Maxwell,  and 
pray  again  ;  do  !  she  cannot  mean  me." 

It  was  evident  that  the  woman  understood. 
u  You ; "  she  said  distinctly,  with  her  eyes  on 
Marjorie,  "  That  same  prayer."  Mr.  Maxwell 
looked  bewildered,  but  Marjorie  understood  ;  she 
must  be  calling  for  those  very  words  which  had 
been  spoken  in  her  extremity.  Could  she  possi 
bly  speak  them  before  this  man  who  knew  that  she 
did  not  pray?  Yet  what  was  any  man  now?  In 
a  few  minutes  the  woman  would  be  in  the  pres 
ence  of  God.  Could  she  let  her  go  with  her  last 
cry  refused  ?  She  must  say  those  words  again. 
In  much  less  time  than  it  has  taken  to  record  them, 


"YOU  PRAY."  243 

these  thoughts  passed  through  her  rnind,  and  once 
more  she  was  on  her  knees  saying :  "  O  God,  have 
mercy  on  this  woman  and  give  her  what  she  needs, 
for  Christ's  sake." 

"  Amen,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"  Again ; "  said  the  voice  of  the  dying,  and 
again  Marjorie's  tremulous  lips  cried  the  prayer. 

"  Have  mercy  for  Christ's  sake ; "  it  was  the 
voice  from  the  bed  which  repeated  those  words 
slowly,  distinctly.  Once,  twice,  three  times, 
pausing  many  times  for  breath.  The  voice  grew 
fainter,  ceased.  She  lay  quite  still,  but  her  eyes 
were  not  closed.  They  were  lifted  upward,  and 
on  her  face  there  was  the  semblance  of  a  smile. 


244  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

QUESTIONS  NEEDING   ANSWERS. 

"  LET  us  rejoice  that  we  have  a  God  who  is  al 
ways  ready  to  hear;"  said  Mr.  Maxwell  as,  the 
solemn  silence  having  continued  for  some  minutes, 
they  arose  from  their  knees. 

"  This  has  been  a  very  trying  ordeal  to  you,"  he 
added  kindly,  "  I  did  not  realize  that  she  was  so 
near  death,  or  I  would  not  have  left  you." 

"  Is  she  dead?  "  asked  Marjorie  in  an  awe-stricken 
voice,  her  face  almost  as  pale  as  that  of  the  silent 
woman  on  the  bed. 

"  The  pulse  has  stopped  :  with  her  last  breath  she 
said :  '  For  Christ's  sake.'  Let  us  hope  that  she  is 
even  now  in  His  visible  presence.  Life  here  had 
certainly  no  joy  for  her,  and  but  little  hope.  There 
is  nothing  more  that  we  can  do,  Miss  Edmonds,  but 
I  think  we  must  remain  until  the  doctor  comes. 
There  are  no  neighbors  to  whom  we  can  appeal. 
The  doctor  must  surely  come  in  a  few  minutes." 

Even  while  he  spoke,  there  was  the  merry  jingle 
of  bells,  coming  to  a  halt  before  the  door.  At  the 
same  moment  the  back  door  opened,  and  a  woman 
with  a  shawl  over  her  head,  appeared. 

"  How  is  she  ?  "  she  asked,  nodding  to  Marjorie 


QUESTIONS  NEEDING  ANSWERS.  245 

as  she  spoke  :  "  I've  been  gone  all  day,  and  I 
couldn't  help  kind  of  worrying  about  her,  she 
seemed  so  low  and  miserable  this  morning.  Oh, 
mercy  !  you  don't  say  she  is  gone  ?  Dear,  dear  !  I 
was  afraid  of  it!  and  yet  I  didn't  think  it  would  be 
so  sudden  or  I  would  have  let  the  dollar  go,  poor 
as  I  am,  and  stayed  with  her ;  and  she  has  been 
alone  here  all  day,  I  suppose  ?  Poor  young  thing  ! 
It  seems  awful  cruel,  doesn't  it  ?  But  there  !  What 
else  could  we  do  ?  Poor  folks  has  to  work,  and  I 
thought  I  could  afford  to  get  some  extra  bits  of 
comfort  for  her  with  this  day's  work.  Oh,  no, 
ma'am,  she  ain't  nothing  to  me,  except  that  I'm  her 
next-door  neighbor,  and  I've  tried  to  do  for  her  as 
well  as  I  could.  I've  looked  in  every  morning 
before  I  went  away,  and  every  night  when  I  come 
back ;  and  Saturdays,  and  odd  times  I've  took  hold 
and  helped  do  up  her  bit  of  work.  I  felt  sorry  for 
her  on  account  of  her  being  so  young  and  so 
sick,  and  having  such  a  worthless  husband.  She 
mourned  for  him  so ;  that's  just  what  has  broke 
her  down.  She  ain't  seen  a  sight  of  him  now  for 
three  or  four  days ;  by  and  by  he  will  come  snivel 
ing  home  and  go  on  at  the  greatest  rate  because 
she  is  gone ;  and  he  did  nothing  for  her  while  she 
was  here.  I  ain't  no  patience  with  them  kind  of 
men.  Jack  would  be  a  decent  enough  fellow,  too, 
if  he  could  let  the  whisky  alone.  It  is  that  aw 
ful  whisky  that  makes  such  times  for  poor  folks, 
ma'am  ;  and  then  to  see  decent  people  helping 
the  trade  along !  that  beats  me.  Well,  we'll 


246  MAKING  FATE. 

do  everything  we  can  for  her,  now  she's  gone. 
That's  Mr.  Maxwell,  ain't  it?  I  thought  I  knew 
him.  He's  been  awful  good  to  her  ;  been  here  time 
and  again  ;  brought  her  oranges,  and  things  ;  and 
coal,  and  once  he  built  up  a  fire  with  his  own  hands  ; 
and  he's  talked  and  prayed  with  her,  and  every 
thing.  He's  a  saint,  that  man  is,  if  ever  there  was 
one.  I'm  glad  he  was  here  to-day.  I  wonder  if 
he  knows  anything  about  Jack?  Dr.  Potter," — 
suddenly  turning  her  attention  to  the  physician  to 
whom  a  single  glance  at  the  bed  had  revealed  the 
condition  of  things  ;  he  was  drawing  on  his  gloves 
again  while  he  exchanged  a  few  words  with  Mr. 
Maxwell.  "  Dr.  Potter,  don't  you  know  where  we 
could  find  Jack  Taylor  ?  You  know  him,  don't  you  ? 
That  good-for-nothing  fellow  who  is  always  drunk 
nowadays,  when  he  isn't  at  home  sleeping  off  the 
effects.  He  ain't  been  home  for  almost  a  week  ; 
that's  what  has  run  her  down  so.  But  he  ought 
to  be  looked  up  now,  for  decency's  sake.  If  we 
could  get  him  sober  enough  for  the  funeral  it  seems 
as  if  it  would  kind  of  comfort  her." 

The  doctor  had  no  information  or  advice  to  give, 
beyond  the  suggestion  that  they  see  some  of  the 
distillery  men  from  Snyder's.  »He  had  heard  that 
Jack  Taylor  was  hanging  around  there,  trying  to 
get  work  again  though  he  had  been  twice  discharged. 

"  They  ought  to  keep  him  ;  "  said  the  woman 
significantly.  "  He  begun  this  thing  out  there  ; 
was  as  nice  a  fellow  as  ever  I  see,  till  he  went  to 
work  for  them ;  they  might  finish  up  their  work, 


QUESTIONS  NEEDING  ANSWERS.  247 

I  think.  There  wouldn't  be  any  need  for  their 
business  anyhow,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  drunkards, 
or  those  who  are  traveling  that  road  as  fast  as  they 
can." 

Then,  while  the  doctor  made  haste  away,  she 
turned  her  attention  to  Mr.  Maxwell.  That  gen 
tleman,  however,  cut  her  short  in  the  midst  of  a 
sentence  and  did  much  of  the  talking  himself. 
He  spoke  low,  so  that  Marjorie  could  not  catch  a 
word ;  save  that  as  he  turned  away,  she  heard  him 
say,  "  I  will  come  to-morrow  morning  and  give  you 
any  further  help  you  may  need.  I  think  you  un 
derstand  that  you  are  to  do  whatever  is  needful?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  woman,  nodding  her  head  ;  there 
was  an  undercurrent  of  satisfaction  in  her  voice 
which  it  was  impossible  not  to  note.  "I  under 
stand,  and  thank  you  kindly  too  ;  I  was  troubled 
to  see  how  we  could  give  her  decent  burial, 
and  we  so  poor,  all  of  us,  and  him  so  shiftless 
and  worthless.  It  is  very  good  of  you,  and  we 
won't  forget  it.  She  was  too  much  of  a  lady  to 
be  buried  by  the  town.  They  was  a  nice  young 
couple  once,  Mr.  Maxwell.  A  woman  I  used  to 
work  for  used  to  know  her  before  she  was  married  ; 
she  says  she  come  of  a  good  family,  and  they  didn't 
want  her  to  marry  Jack  ;  but  she  would ;  and  they 
kind  of  got  out  with  her ;  and  now  they  are  gone '; 
father  and  mother,  both.  But  Jack  wras  sober 
enough  when  she  married  him  ;  had  been  sober  for 
quite  a  spell ;  and  she  thought  she  could  keep  him 
from  drinking  any  more  ;  just  as  lots  of  women  folks 


248  MAKING  FATE. 

do.  It  is  queer  how  one  after  another,  we  women 
make  exactly  the  same  blunder,  and  no  one  learns 
from  the  last  one." 

"  That  good  woman  loves  to  talk,"  Mr.  Max 
well  said  with  a  faint  smile,  as  he  helped  Marjorie 
to  her  seat  in  the  sleigh,  "  but  her  heart  is  in  the 
right  place.  Silence  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
he  added  with  a  heavy  sigh  :  "  The  woman  is 
right,  Miss  Edmonds;  day  after  day,  and  year 
after  year,  the  tragedy  goes  on,  being  played  be 
fore  our  eyes.  Woman  after  woman,  grave  after 
grave ;  not  only  women,  but  little  children  sacri 
ficed  to  our  Moloch  ;  and  the  Christian  world  looks 
on,  and  sometimes  sighs,  and  oftener  smiles,  and 
lets  it  go.  Sometimes  I  get  so  wrought  up  about 
this  liquor  business  that  it  seems  to  me  impossible 
to  live  longer  in  a  country  which  permits  it.  I 
wonder  that  the  victims  do  not  lose  their  reason 
and  rise  in  protest.  A  strike  of  the  wives  of 
drunkards.  Miss  Edmonds,  a  riot  made  up  of  the 
wives  and  children  and  mothers  who  are  victims 
of  the  saloon  !  Can  you  imagine  it?" 

The  connection  might  not  have  been  plain  to  all 
persons,  but  despite  her  effort  to  put  the  thought 
away,  there  arose  before  Marjorie  just  then  the 
image  of  a  bookkeeper  in  a  distillery.  What  had 
he  to  do  with  Jack  Taylor,  the  drunkard,  who 
had  broken  his  wife's  heart?  He  was  merely  a 
bookkeeper  ;  and  bookkeeping  every  one  knows  is 
legitimate  employment. 

New  Year's  day  was  over  at  last,  and  Marjorie 


QUESTIONS  NEEDING  ANSWERS.  249 

was  in  her  room  alone  ;  free  to  go  over  all  its 
varied  experiences  and  let  her  face  flush  and  pale, 
and  her  heart  tremble  if  it  would,  without  fear  of 
being  watched  and  commented  upon.  Mr.  Max 
well  had  been  very  thoughtful  of  her  during  that 
homeward  drive ;  shielding  her  as  much  as  possi 
ble  even  from  her  mother. 

"We  struck  sorrow  in  one  of  its  most  desolat 
ing  forms,"  he  explained,  "  and  your  daughter  has 
been  tried  in  strength  and  nerves." 

Then,  after  giving  her  a  very  brief  account  of 
what  had  taken  place,  he  began  to  question  her  in 
regard  to  the  old  lady  to  whom  she  had  minis 
tered,  leaving  no  room  for  questions  upon  her  part, 
concerning  the  tragedy  they  two  had  lived  through. 
When  Glyde  joined  them  the  way  was  easier.  She 
was  in  a  high  state  of  excitement  and  enthusiasm. 
They  had  had  "  wonderful "  times,  she  and  the 
children.  It  had  been  so  delightful  to  wash  their 
faces  and  comb  their  hair  and  make  changes  in 
their  dresses  which  amazed  them.  It  had  been 
"  such  fun  "  to  sweep  the  room,  and  clear  off  the 
shelf,  and  put  everything  in  order,  even  to  the 
washing  of  the  few  poor  dishes  ;  and  they  had 
set  the  table  with  dainty  things  which  the 
baskets  furnished,  and  gotten  everything  ready  for 
the  mother's  home-coming.  Then,  to  see  that 
mother's  face  when  she  finally  came  !  That  was 
beyond  even  Glyde's  descriptive  powers.  She  had 
never  had  such  an  experience  in  her  life  before. 
She  knew  now  just  what  she  would  like  to  do  in 


250  MAKING  FATE. 

the  world.  Didn't  they  have  city  missionaries,  or 
town  missionaries  in  some  places,  whose  duty  it 
was  to  go  around  among  the  people  and  do  just 
such  things  ?  She  had  read  of  them,  she  thought. 
Wouldn't  it  be  possible  for  her  to  get  some  such 
work  to  do  ?  Didn't  they  pay  salaries  for  such 
work  ?  She  wouldn't  want  any  pay  now,  of 
course,  but  if  she  should  take  it  up  for  a  life-work. 
One  wouldn't  want  much,  just  enough  to  buy  very 
plain  clothes,  and  a  little  food  every  day.  How 
perfectly  delightful  it  would  be  to  give  one's  whole 
time  to  work  like  that ! 

Mr.  Maxwell  entered  heartily  into  her  enthusi 
asm  ;  helped  her  plans  along  by  suggesting  ways 
out  of  difficulties  which  presented  themselves  to 
her  mind,  and  evolved  new  plans  by  his  very  ques 
tions.  It  is  true  he  thought  that  it  would  be 
necessary  for  her  to  wait  until  she  was  a  little 
older,  but  he  assured  her  soothingly  that  time  was 
a  very  fast  traveler,  and  that  some  morning  before 
she  knew  it,  she  would  awaken  old  enough  to  take 
such  work  upon  her  shoulders.  She  argued  that 
point  with  him  a  little. 

Why  did  everybody  persist  in  thinking  her  so 
young  ?  She  was  nineteen,  nearly  as  old  as  Mar- 
jorie,  who,  everybody  knew,  was  a  young  lady, 
while  they  spoke  of  her  as  a  little  girl.  That  was 
simply  because  she  had  two  older  sisters  who 
themselves  considered  her  a  child.  But  why 
should  she  wait  to  be  old  ?  Children  would  like 
her  better  as  she  was,  and  it  was  the  children  she 


QUESTIONS  NEEDING  ANSWERS.  251 

wanted  to  reach.  She  wanted  to  tell  them  stories, 
such  stories  as  would  help  them.  Why,  they  were 
startlingly  ignorant !  those  children  with  whom  she 
had  been  visiting.  They  knew  almost  nothing 
of  the  Bible,  and  their  ideas  of  God  were  really 
shocking  ! 

It  was  true,  Mr.  Maxwell  said  gravely,  home 
missionaries  were  needed  in  just  that  line,  and  in 
the  very  town  in  which  she  lived ;  perhaps  she 
could  do  something  in  a  small  way  even  while  she 
was  so  young,  but  there  were  difficulties  to  be  con 
sidered.  In  many  families  where  the  children 
were  in  sore  need,  it  would  not  be  safe  fora  young 
lady  to  visit.  For  instance,  he  would  hardly  have 
left  her  where  he  did,  had  he  not  been  quite  sure 
that  the  husband  and  father  who  lived  just  next 
door  was  not  at  home  and  would  not  be  during 
the  day.  Sometimes  it  was  very  unsafe  for  a 
stranger,  and  a  lady  to  be  in  the  neighborhood 
when  he  was  at  home. 

"  The  trouble  is,  Miss  Douglass,"  he  said  gravely, 
"  that  rum  makes  husbands,  and  fathers,  and  neigh 
bors,  into  wild  animals  sometimes.  It  is  that 
element  in  some  form  or  other  which  renders  it 
unsafe  for  young  ladies  to  do  a  great  many  things 
which  they  might  otherwise  do.  It  is,  however, 
only  too  true  that  if  it  were  not  for  rum,  a  great 
deal  of  the  work  would  not  need  to  be  done  ;  so 
the  problem  is  complicated." 

Throughout  these  conversations,  Mr.  Maxwell 
almost  pointedly  left  Marjorie  outside ;  even 


252  MAKING  FATE. 

answering  for  her  once  or  twice  when  Glyde  ap 
pealed  to  her.  It  was  done  in  such  a  manner  that 
she  could  not  but  understand  him  as  planning  rest 
for  her  overstrained  nerves.  He  by  no  means  for 
got  her ;  the  slightest  disarrangement  of  the  robes 
which  were  carefully  tucked  about  her,  was  noticed 
and  remedied  on  the  iiistant,  and  in  a  dozen  little 
unobtrusive  ways  did  he  let  her  know  that  his 
thought  was  for  her.  Once  he  gave  her  the  reins 
for  a  moment,  and  bending  forward,  rearranged  the 
wrappings  about  her  feet.  While  he  did  so,  Ralph 
Bramlett's  sleigh  passed  them,  and  that  young 
man  glowered  at  him  in  a  way  that  he  would  not 
have  understood  had  he  noticed  it.  As  for  Mar- 
jorie,  she  missed  the  look;  Mr.  Maxwell  was  lean 
ing  forward  in  such  a  manner  that  she  could  not 
see  who  passed  them.  Alone  in  her  room  that 
evening,  she  thought  of  those  quiet  attentions  and 
was  grateful.  She  saw  in  them  only  added  marks 
of  his  thoughtfulness  for  womanhood.  How 
gracious,  and  courteous,  and  kind  he  Avas,  always ! 
Truly  kind  and  truly  good ;  she  realized  it  that 
evening  as  she  had  not  before.  She  told  herself 
that  it  was  pleasant  to  have  such  a  man  for  a 
friend,  and  that  she  should  never  forget  all  the 
kindnesses  he  had  shown  to  her  mother  and  her 
self. 

Then  she  turned  her  thoughts  from  him  and 
allowed  herself  to  gaze  steadily  at  Ralph  Brainlett 
for  a  few  minutes;  realizing  in  the  depths  of  her 
heart  that  it  was  a  sort  of  farewell  gaze.  It  had 


QUESTIONS  NEEDING  ANSWERS.  253 

now  become  very  plain  to  her  that  he  had  settled 
his  future ;  when  next  she  met  Estelle  Douglass 
she  felt  certain  that  she  would  have  a  story  to  tell 
which  would  prove  the  truth  of  this.  Such  being 
the  case,  it  should  have  something  to  do  with 
those  letters  and  gifts  which  she  had  decided  long 
ago  not  to  return.  That  decision  had  not  been 
reversed,  but  she  must  keep  them  no  longer. 

Since  Ralph  Bramlett  belonged  to  another,  she 
had  no  right  to  treasure  the  tokens  of  his  long 
friendship  for  her.  There  was  a  cheery  fire  burn 
ing  in  her  grate,  more  for  pleasure  than  necessity, 
as  the  house  was  heated  by  furnace,  but  it  would 
serve  her  purpose  well  to-night.  She  brought  out 
the  locked  box  and  untied  package  after  package 
to  assure  herself  that  nothing  besides  Ralph's 
notes  had  by  accident  been  included  with  them, 
then,  not  allowing  herself  to  read  so  much  as  a 
page,  she  consigned  them  one  by  one  to  the 
flames. 

It  was  a  slow  grave  piece  of  work ;  as  one 
might  steadily  and  knowingly  put  away  what 
had  been  part  of  one's  very  self.  Not  only  let 
ters,  but  valentines  ;  pretty  boyish  ones,  which  had 
come  to  her  in  the  days  when  both  were  children, 
and  had  spent  hours  in  studying  what  selections 
to  make  for  each  other.  Then  there  were  dainty 
booklets,  ribbon-tied,  two  or  three  of  them  heart- 
shaped  ;  and  there  were  cards  with  very  special 
verses  underscored  ;  some,  with  verses  written  on 
the  reverse  side  in  Ralph's  own  fine  style.  He 


254  MAKING  FATE. 

was  a  good  penman,  and  had  always  enjoyed  doing 
especially  fine  work  for  Marjorie's  eyes.  These 
cards,  pretty  as  they  were,  must  be  sacrificed  to 
the  flames ;  even  the  underscored  sentences  were 
such  as  it  would  not  do  to  have  on  exhibition  now. 
There  were  dried  flowers,  half  blown  rosebuds 
withered  before  their  time,  and  pressed  violets  by 
the  handful ;  the  flames  leaped  up  about  them 
eagerly,  seeming  to  rejoice  in  this  wholesale  holo 
caust.  Marjorie  lingered  over  a  photograph  of 
Ralph,  taken  when  he  was  just  nineteen.  It  was 
a  boyish,  handsome  face  ;  surely  she  might  keep 
that.  People  had  photographs  of  their  friends. 
She  held  it  long,  clasped  in  both  hands,  and  con 
sidered;  the  conclusion  was  that  she  leaned  for 
ward  solemnly  and  laid  it  on  the  coals.  She 
would  be  true  not  only  to  herself  but  to  that  other 
woman  who  had  a  right  to  claim  Ralph  now. 
This  could  not  be  like  other  photographs,  standing 
about  on  easels,  on  library  tables,  or  family  room 
mantels,  to  be  handled  and  chatted  over  by  friends  ; 
this  had  memories  and  associations  which  could 
never  be  separated  from  it.  She  did  not  want  to 
keep  it.  It  was  not  hers  any  longer.  She  did  not 
hurry  through  any  part  of  this  work,  she  was  slow 
and  grave  ;  more  like  a  middled-aged  woman  who 
was  taking  a  retrospective  view  of  her  long  ago 
past,  rather  than  a  girl  who  was  putting  away 
what  was  so  recent  and  vivid.  In  truth,  Ralph's 
management  of  this  entire  affair  had  removed  him 
so  far  away  from  her  and  made  the  time  seem  so 


QUESTIONS  NEEDING  ANSWERS.  255 

long,  that  sometimes  she  almost  thought  it  must 
be  years  since  she  had  met  him  familiarly. 

All  the  while  she  was  at  work,  there  was  in  her 
mind  a  solemn  undertone  of  feeling  that  there  was 
something  else,  something  of  infinitely  more  im 
portance,  which  must  be  considered.  She  was  not 
one  who  could  get  soon,  or  lightly,  away  from  the 
experiences  of  that  afternoon.  Death  in  one  of  its 
most  solemn  forms  had  confronted  her ;  she  had  al 
most  been  alone  with  it ;  she  had  realized  its  certainty 
as  never  before.  The  thought  had  forced  itself  upon 
hei\  heart  that  here  was  one  who  would  be  faith 
ful.  No  matter  how  long  he  delayed,  he  was  abso 
lutely  certain  to  come  at  last ;  and  he  might  appear 
at  any  moment.  How  suddenly  he  had  come  to 
the  woman  whom  she  had  watched  die  !  taking  the 
miserable  husband  so  utterly  unawares  that  perhaps 
he  did  not  even  yet  know  that  his  wife  had  escaped 
from  him  forever.  For  such  an  absolute  certainty 
as  this,  the  merest  common  sense  would  suggest 
that  one  ought  to  be  ready.  But  there  was  more 
than  this  thought  pressing  upon  her  heart;  she  felt 
alone,  dreary,  desolate,  in  need  of  a  friend  ;  such  a 
friend  as  Jesus  Christ  seemed  to  be,  not  only  to 
Mr.  Maxwell  but  to  Glyde  Douglass,  the  young 
girl  who  was  maturing  so  rapidly  and  so  sweetly 
under  His  guidance.  What  must  it  be  to  have  an 
ever-present  Friend  to  speak  to  as  Mr.  Maxwell  had 
spoken  to  the  Lord  Jesus  that  afternoon  ?  What 
must  it  be  to  be  able  to  realize  His  help  in  trouble  ? 
In  "little  troubles,"  as  Glyde  had  said,  as  well 


256  MAKING  FATE. 

as  in  the  heavier  ones  which  were  weighing  down 
her  soul.  She  believed  in  Christianity  ;  she  believed 
in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  as  a  personal  Saviour; 
she  knew  there  were  people  who  had  so  accepted 
him,  and  who  lived  in  daily  realization  of  His  pres 
ence.  Suppose  that  the  great  mass  of  those  who 
professed  this  were  merely  church  members,  as  she 
had  hinted  to  Glyde  the  other  day,  what  had  that 
to  do  with  her?  Since  there  were  some  genuine 
Christians  must  she  needs  be  a  hypocrite  or  a 
worldling,  or  a  self-deceived  professor?  In  the 
depths  of  her  heart  she  knew  that  from  her  child 
hood  there  had  been  an  intention  to  sometime  give 
her  mind  to  this  subject,  and  settle  it  for  herself. 
For  the  first  time  in  her  life  this  intention  presented 
itself  before  her  as  something  not  much  better  than 
an  insult,  so  long  as  it  was  delayed.  Was  it  pos 
sible  that  she  could  be  the  sort  of  person  who 
would  be  willing  to  dally  with  such  offers  of  love 
and  help  and  care  as  this !  Besides,  what  utter 
folly  it  was !  Could  a  reasonable  being  find  one 
excuse  for  it  ?  That  hour  of  death  about  which 
she  had  thought,  why  not  get  ready  for  it  ?  That 
poor  woman  struggling  for  breath,  gasping  out  her 
wants  in  language  almost  unintelligible,  ought  to 
have  had  no  such  serious  business  to  attend  to  at 
that  hour,  ought  to  have  been  ready.  Moreover, 
she  might  not  have  had  even  those  few  last  mo 
ments  in  which  to  try  to  repair  her  lifetime  of 
neglect.  The  moment  Marjorie  thought  this,  that 
other  thought  about  the  insult  of  it  all,  presented 


QUESTIONS  HEEDING  ANSWERS.  257 

itself  to  her  in  a  new  form.  Could  anything  be 
meaner  than  for  a  girl  like  herself,  for  instance, 
young  and  strong,  with  much  opportunity  for  work 
before  her  perhaps,  to  deliberately  put  away  the 
claims  of  this  One  who  asked  for  allegiance  now? 
Put  them  away  until  some  hour  when  she  should 
feel  herself  in  sore  need  and  then  cry  to  Him  to 
give  her  what  she  had  refused  at  His  hands  through 
the  years? 

Imagine  an  earthly  friend  so  treated  ! 

Marjorie's  heart  was  very  sore  just  then  over 
earthly  friendships.  She  knew  just  how  silence 
and  coldness  and  indifference  could  sting.  Was  it 
a  possible  thing  that  Jesus  Christ  wanted  her? 
Claimed  her  love,  would  give  her  love  in  return, 
and  she  had  been  treating  His  call, — riot  with 
scorn,  but  with  what  was  in  soine  respects  worse, 
utter  indifference  !  How  could  she  expect  Him  to 
tarry  much  longer  waiting  for  her  ?  Why  should 
she  wait?  Didn't  she  need  Him?  oh,  didn't  she 
need  Him  now  !  Could  she  do  it?  Could  she  be 
the  sort  of  Christian  that  she  should  ?  She  had 
been  held  back  she  knew,  for  years,  by  the  feeling 
that  there  were  too  many  Christians  now  of  a  certain 
kind,  and  that  she  would  only  be  another  of  the 
same  sort.  But  since  there  were  experiences 
which  seemed  to  change  one's  very  nature,  could 
not  she  have  such  a  change  as  this?  How  did 
people  get  it  ? 


258  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"  GIVE   ME  WHAT    I  NEED." 

THEORETICALLY  Marjorie  Edmonds  tnew  a 
great  deal  about  conversion  ;  yet  when  it  came  to  the 
practical,  she  realized  that  her  knowledge  was 
very  unsatisfactory.  The  words  "  repentance  " 
and  "regeneration"  had  been  as  familiar,  all 
through  her  childhood,  almost  as  her  own  name. 
The  catechism  of  her  mother's  church  was  A  B 
C  to  her  so  far  as  mere  words  were  concerned ; 
but  she  had  not  understood  their  meaning  any 
better  than  Ralph  Bramletthad  the  meaning  of  the 
Lord's  Prayer.  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  thou  shalt  be  saved  "  was  one  of  the  familiar 
verses  which  floated  through  her  mind.  What  did 
it  mean  ?  She  had  believed  on  Him  all  her  life  ; 
she  knew  that  He  was  a  reality  and  a  Saviour  ;  but 
she  knew  also  that  she  was  not  saved.  "  Seek  ye 
first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness," 
was  another  verse  which  came  and  stood  'before  her. 
That  indeed  she  had  not  done ;  she  had  put  His 
claim  deliberately  from  her  too  many  times  not  to 
be  sure  of  it.  But  how  did  one  seek  ?  And  ho\v 
long  a  process  was  it?  It  ought  not  to  be  very 
long,  she  reflected,  because  there  was  that  faithful 


"  GIVE  ME  WHAT  I  NEED.1'1  259 

messenger  who  might  come.  What  was  there  to 
assure  her  that  he  might  not  call  for  her  that  very 
night,  even  while  she  slept.  People  did  die  so. 
She  had  heard  of  more  than  one  instance,  and  that 
recently,  of  sudden  death.  No,  she  was  not  fright 
ened;  she  was  not  in  any  sense  of  the  word  a 
coward.  She  did  not  suppose  it  very  probable 
that  she  should  be  called  to  die  before  morning  ; 
she  was  simply  like  a  person  of  common  sense,  she 
told  herself,  looking  at  the  possibilities. 

Besides,  she  did  not  want  to  wait  for  long  proc 
esses  ;  she  wanted  to  settle  it  now.  "  O  Mar- 
jorie,  won't  you  think  about  what  I  asked  you  ?  " 
Glyde  had  murmured,  as  she  clasped  her  hand  for 
good-bye  that  afternoon.  There  had  been  no 
opportunity  for  further  words,  but  Marjorie  had 
understood ;  Glyde  had  not  known  what  she  had 
been  through,  nor  how  certainly  she  would  have  to 
think  about  these  things  this  evening.  But  surely 
they  required  more  than  thinking  about ;  she  felt 
very  far  away  indeed  from  Christ;  felt  as  though 
some  tremendous  change  ought  to  be  wrought 
within  her  before  she  would  dare  intrude  upon 
Him.  Yet  this  was  not  in  accordance  with  her 
theoretic  teaching.  It  must  be,  however,  some 
thing  like  what  people  meant  when  they  talked 
about  conversion.  But  how  did  they  get  it?  She 
looked  for  her  Bible  with  a  vague  feeling  that  it 
ought  to  be  able  to  point  the  way.  She  knew  no 
better  where  to  read,  than  Ralph  Bramlett  had  done  ; 
but  she  had  no  idea  of  starting  with  the  first  chapter 


'260  MAKING  FATE. 

of  Genesis.  She  had  not  yet  learned  how  to  find 
Christ  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  it  was  Christ 
she  wanted.  She  opened  it  at  random  and  read : 
"  Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  What  wilt 
thou  that  I  should  do  unto  thee  ?  The  blind  man 
said  unto  him,  Lord,  that  I  might  receive  my  sight. 
Jesus  said  unto  him,  Go  thy  way,  thy  faith  hath 
made  thee  whole  ;  and  immediately  he  received  his 
sight,  and  followed  Jesus  in  the  way."  The  story, 
though  perfectly  familiar  to  her,  sounded  new  ; 
for  some  reason  it  touched  the  fountain  of  tears, 
and  they  began  to  gather  for  the  first  time  in  many 
days.  How  short  it  was,  that  prayer  !  shorter  even 
than  the  one  she  had  offered  for  the  dying  woman. 
And  how  instantaneous  and  complete  was  the  an 
swer?  "Immediately  he  received  his  sight  and 
followed  Jesus  in  the  way."  Was  she  ready  to 
follow  him  ?  Certainly  she  would  be,  she  thought, 
if  she  only  knew  what  following  meant,  in  her  case. 
"  If  any  man  will  come  after  me,  let  him  deny  him 
self  and  take  up  his  cross  and  follow  me,"  this 
verse  her  eye  rested  on  as  she  turned  the  leaves. 
Was  she  ready  to  deny  herself?  But  deny  herself 
of  what?  "  The  cross  " — yes  she  had  a  cross  and 
it  was  heavy,  but  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had  nothing 
to  do  with  it,  so  she  thought ;  it  was  altogether  a 
human  cross  and  she  was  bearing  it  alone.  If  there 
were  another,  to  bear  for  Him,  she  would  be  almost 
glad  of  it ;  but  she  did  not  know  how  to  find  it. 
If  He  were  here  so  that  she  might  speak  to  Him  as 
the  blind  man  did ;  if  He  were  out  on  the  street, 


"  GIVE  ME  WHAT  I  NEED."  261 

she  would  go  this  minute  in  the  night  and  the 
darkness  and  hurry  until  she  caught  up  with  Him. 
Then  what  would  she  say  ?  "  Lord  that  I  might 
receive  my  sight?  "  Yes,  that  would  do  ;  it  was 
what  she  wanted ;  such  mental  sight  as  would 
enable  her  to  understand  His  ways  in  which  she 
wanted  to  walk.  Would  He  say  to  her,  "  Go 
thy  way,  thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole  ?  "  Per 
haps  faith  was  what  she  needed.  Yet  she  believed 
in  Christ?  Still,  she  owned  to  herself  that  she 
did  not  believe,  could  not  make  herself  believe 
that  He  really  and  truly  cared  for  her  as  an  in 
dividual  ;  that  He  would  pay  any  attention  to  what 
she  said.  Why  should  He  ?  There  was  nothing  in 
her  to  win  His  love,  nothing  about  her  that  He 
could  enjo}-.  It  was  inconceivable  that  He  would 
be  willing  to  hold  intimate  companionship  with 
her  day  by  day.  Yet,  if  He  should,  it  would  make 
all  her  life  different.  "  It  is  that  which  I  need," 
she  said  aloud,  and  sorrowfully,  "  I  need  to  be  en 
tirely  different,  to  be  made  over.  But  after  all, 
that  is  pure  selfishness  ;  I  do  not  suppose  He  an 
swers  selfish  prayers.  I  suppose  I  want  Him  be 
cause  I  am  so  utterly  tired  of  myself.  Oh,  I  don't 
know  ivhat  I  want,  nor  how  to  do  any  of  it." 

The  words  of  prayer  which  she  had  repeated  so 
often  that  afternoon,  recurred  again  to  her ;  if  that 
was  prayer,  it  might  answer  for  her  as  well  as  for 
the  dying  woman.  "  God  have  merc}Ton  me,"  she 
might  say,  "  and  give  me  what  I  need."  She  sat 
and  stared  at  the  dying  fire,  and  the  ashes  of  the 


262  MAKING  FATE. 

treasures  which  she  had  committed  to  it,  for  several 
minutes  longer,  then  rising  slowly,  knelt  before 
her  chair,  and  laying  her  head  wearily  on  its  cush 
ions  repeated  the  words  of  which  she  had  been 
thinking  :  "  O  God,  have  mercy  on  rne,  and  give 
me  what  I  need  for  Christ's  sake."  He  who  knows 
the  uttermost  need  of  the  human  heart,  could  tell 
better  what  that  prayer  meant,  than  she  could  her 
self.  Long  she  knelt,  using  no  other  words,  not 
repeating  those  again,  not  praying,  consciously, 
simply  waiting.  She  was  not  even  thinking ;  there 
seemed  to  have  come  a  lull  in  her  thoughts.  Pres 
ently  there  came  to  her  the  memory  of  a  little  old 
book  hidden  behind  finer  ones  on  the  library 
shelves.  Its  title  was  :  "  How  I  Found  the  Way." 
It  was  an  old-fashioned  book  and  its  language 
was  quaint  and  queer  ;  at  least,  it  had  struck  them 
so;  she  and  Ralph  had  laughed  together  over 
some  of  its  phrases  ;  but  the  title  was  suggestive. 
Perhaps  it  could  point  the  way  for  which  she  wasN 
seeking.  She  wished  she  had  the  book ;  there 
had  come  to  her  an  overpowering  desire  to  have 
this  matter  settled.  She  felt  almost  afraid  of 
putting  it  from  her  again;  something — she  was 
almost  tempted  to  think  that  it  was  some  One — was 
saying  to  her  soul :  "  Now  is  the  time."  Why 
should  she  not  go  downstairs  and  get  that  old 
book  ?  The  door  was  closed  between  her  mother's 
room  and  hers,  as  it  often  was  during  these  days  ; 
her  mother  must  be  sleeping ;  she  could  go  so 
quietly  as  not  to  disturb  her.  Besides  it  could 


"  GIVE  ME  WHAT  1  NEED."  263 

not  be  late  ;  she  had  come  early  to  her  room.  If 
her  mother  should  hear  her,  it  would  be  a  com 
monplace-enough  explanation  that  she  was  in 
search  of  a  book.  Not  giving  herself  time  for  fur 
ther  thought,  she  softly  unlocked  the  door  and 
slipped  down  the  heavily  carpeted  stairs,  match 
in  hand ;  she  meant  not  to  light  the  gas  until  she 
reached  the  back  parlor.  But  the  back  parlor 
was  lighted,  and  standing  before  the  bookcase, 
open  book  in  hand,  was  Mr.  Maxwell.  He  turned 
as  the  door  swung  open  and  spoke  at  once. 

"  Miss  Edmonds,  I  hope  I  have  not  frightened 
you  ?  Your  mother  gave  me  permission  to  mouse 
among  these  old  books  of  hers.  I  am  in  search  of 
a  quotation,  of  whose  authorship  I  am  not  certain. 
Miss  Edmonds,  I  hope  you  are  not  ill  ?  Can  I 
serve  you  in  any  way  ?  "  For  he  could  not  but 
note  her  extreme  pallor,  and  in  her  eyes  was  a  new 
look,  of  whose  meaning  he  could  not  be  sure. 
He  came  towards  her  as  he  spoke,  and  instinct 
ively  placed  a  chair  for  her;  she  did  not  look  able 
to  stand. 

"  I  came  for  a  book,"  said  Marjorie,  taking  a 
sudden  resolution,  "  but  perhaps  you  will  do  bet 
ter  than  a  book.  There  is  something  that  I  want 
to  know."  t 

"  If  I  can  help  you  in  any  way,  be  sure  I 
shall  be  only  too  glad  to  do  so."  He  spoke  with 
exceeding  gravity ;  something  in  her  tone  and 
manner  indicated  that  what  she  wanted  to  know 
was  to  be  met  with  utmost  seriousness.  She 


264  MAKING  FATE. 

dropped  into  the  chair  he  had  drawn  toward  her, 
and  sat  for  some  seconds  looking  straight  before 
her  into  the  fire  which  still  smouldered  in  the 
grate,  saying  nothing. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell,"  she  began  at  last,  "  that  woman 
whom  we  saw  die  this  afternoon, — she  was  not 
ready  to  die,  was  she  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell.  "  She  was  not  ready 
to  live ;  therefore,  of  course,  not  ready  to  die.  The 
claims  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  had  been  pressed 
upon  her  many  times,  and  she  had  put  them  aside 
for  what  seemed  to  her  more  important  matters. 
Yet,  Miss  Edmonds,  we  have  so  wonderful  and  so 
merciful  a  Saviour,  that  I  can  but  hope  and  believe 
that  He  had  pity  for  her  ignorance,  and  sympathy 
for  her  sorrows,  and  heard  that  eleventh-hour  cry 
of  hers,  and  took  her  to  Himself.  I  am  sorry  that 
one  so  young  and  so  unused  to  trouble  as  you  are, 
should  have  been  suddenly  thrust  into  the  midst 
of  such  a  scene.  I  know  that  it  cannot  but  have 
made  a  deep  impression  ;  but  I  hope  you  will  not 
let  it  wear  upon  your  nerves." 

"  It  isn't  that, — "  she  said  quickly.  "  I  am  not 
nervous;  at  least  I  have  never  supposed  that  I 
was ;  I  don't  think  it  is  because  I  am  nervous  that 

I  have  come  to  the  conclusion   which  I  have  to- 

• 

night;  perhaps  it  is  simply  common-sense.  Mr. 
Maxwell,  I  want  to  know  Jesus  Christ ;  to  have  a 
personal  acquaintance  witli  Him,  such  as  Glyde 
Douglass  speaks  of.  I  want  Him  for  a  friend,  a 
Burden-bearer."  Her  voice  trenibled  a  little  as 


"  GIVE  ME  WHAT  I  NEED."  265 

she  spoke  those  last  words,  but  she  hurried  on, 
apparently  in  fear  that  she  might  be  interrupted. 
"  I  suppose  I  want  what  people  mean  when  they 
talk  about  conversion  ;  but  I  do  not  know  how  to 
get  it.  I  have  been  reared  in  a  Christian  home, 
by  a  Christian  mother,  who  tried  to  make  the  way 
plain.  The  terms  which  people  use  in  speaking 
about  these  matters  have  been  familiar  to  me  since 
childhood,  but  some  way  they  seem  to  be  all 
words  ;  they  do  not  convey  any  meaning  to  me. 
The  Bible  says  :  '  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  thou  shalt  be  saved.'  Now  I  have 
always  believed  on  Him;  there  is  in  my  mind  no 
shadow  of  doubt  as  to  His  existence,  and  His  power, 
and  His  love, — for  that  matter  ;  but  I  am  not  saved, 
and  am  conscious  that  I  am  not.  What  is  there 
for  me  to  do  ?  " 

"  Are  you  sure  that  you  believe  on  Him  ?  If 
you  do,  will  you  not  follow  His  directions  ?  " 

"  That  is  precisely  what  I  want  to  do  ;  I  am 
telling  you  that  I  do  not  know  how.  The  very 
first  step  to  take  is  unknown  to  me." 

"  Give  yourself  to  Him,  Miss  Edmonds." 

She  turned  quickly  and  looked  at  him  out  of 
earnest,  troubled  eyes. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell,  how  can  I  do  it?  I  do  not  un 
derstand.  He  is  not  here,  not  in  visible  presence, 
how  is  it  possible  for  me  to  give — anything  to 
Him  ?  That  is  figurative  language,  of  course  : 
but  it  does  not  express  anything  to  me  ;  what  does 
it  mean  ?  " 


266  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Miss  Edmonds,  will  you  give  that  handker 
chief  which  lies  in  your  lap,  to  me  ?  " 

She  glanced  down  at  the  square  of  linen,  then 
back  to  his  face  with  a  most  surprised  look  ;  after 
a  moment's  hesitation  she  said,  "  Yes,  of  course  ; 
but  I  do  not  get  your  meaning." 

She  picked  it  up,  however,  and  reached  it  forth 
to  him.  He  took  it  with  utmost  gravity.  "  Thank 
you,"  he  said,  then  he  wheeled  a  chair  near  her 
and  sat  down. 

"Miss  Edmonds,"  he  said,  "in  passing  this 
handkerchief  over  to  me,  were  you  not  conscious 
of  a  distinct  act  of  your  will  ?  You  could,  of  course, 
have  denied  my  request;  could  have  said  dis 
tinctly,  '  No,  I  will  not  give  it  to  you  ; '  or, 
saying  nothing,  could  still  have  denied  me. 
Instead,  you  consciously,  deliberately,  passed  it 
from  your  possession  into  mine.  Now,  what  I 
want  to  convey  by  that  illustration,  is  the  thought 
that  there  must  be  a  conscious  effort  of  the  human 
will,  in  this  transaction  between  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  yourself.  He  asks  for  yourself;  your 
power,  your  strength,  your  love,  your  allegiance, — 
in  short  all  that  is  comprised  in  that  term  '  your 
self.'  Now,  you  can  refuse  Him ;  you  have  the 
power.  You  can  do  so  deliberately,  with  a  heart- 
determination,  or  you  can  do  it  by  putting  aside 
His  claim,  treating  it  with  indifference,  allowing 
yourself  to  forget  all  about  it.  Or  you  can  con 
sciously  and  deliberately  declare  to  Him  that  you 
now,  from  this  time,  give  yourself  into  His  keeping, 


"  GIVE  ME  WHAT  I  NEED."  267 

to  be  directed,  guided,  managed.  It  is  as  deliber 
ate  an  act  of  the  will  as  it  was  to  pass  over  your 
handkerchief  to  me.  Do  you  get  my  thought?  " 

"  In  part,"  she  said,  after  a  moment's  hesita 
tion,  "  but  not  entirely,  after  all.  To  give  one's 
self,  means  to  give  one's  affections  ;  and  I  cannot 
make  myself  love  any  one,  can  I  ?  " 

"  No,  you  cannot ;  but  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
can ;  that  is  His  part ;  your  part  is  the  surrender. 
It  is  not  a  matter  of  feeling,  but  of  decision.  You 
might  have  disliked  to  give  me  this  handkerchief; 
you  might  not  have  had  the  least  desire  to  do  it ; 
yet  you  might  have  obliged  your  will  to  perform 
the  act.  The  mistake  which  we  make,  in  dealing 
with  religious  questions,  is  to  suppose  that  the 
matter  turns  of  necessity  on  a  question  of  feeling  ; 
I  admit  that  there  is  likely  to  be  more  or  less  feel 
ing  at  such  a  time,  but  not  that  it  is  to  be  taken 
into  special  consideration.  If  there  is  an  honest 
deliberate  intention  to  give  one's  powers  to  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  known  henceforth  as  His 
servant,  to  wear  his  colors,  as  it  were,  to  walk  day 
by  day  in  the  paths  which  He  directs,  to  do,  as  fast 
as  we  understand  it,  his  pleasure,  we  may  safely 
leave  our  feelings  to  take  care  of  themselves.  He, 
on  His  part,  is  pledged  to  take  away  the  heart 
which  does  not  feel  for  Him,  and  give,  in  its  stead, 
a  heart  of  flesh.  The  divine  part  of  this  matter, 
the  regeneration,  is  something  which  we  do  not 
understand;  it  is  something  which  the  Lord  does 
for  us  in  His  infinite  love  and  infinite  power;  but 


268  MAKING  FATE. 

our  part  is  very  plain  ;  we  are  not  to  make  our 
selves  love  Him,  we  are  not  to  wait  until  we  do 
love  Him;  it  is  part  of  His  infinite  condescension 
that  we  are  permitted  even  to  say  to  Him,  that  we 
are  not  conscious  of  any  love  for  Him  in  our  strange 
hard  hearts,  but  that  we  have  resolved  to  serve 
Him.  And  He  '\vill  hear  us  and  accept  us,  and 
ratify  the  covenant.  The  marriage  relation,  which 
is  so  often  used  as  an  illustration  of  this  matter,  is 
not  complete  in  all  its  parts ;  illustrations  rarely 
are.  In  every  true  marriage,  the  heart  has  passed 
over  into  another's  keeping  before  the  vows  are 
taken,  but  in  this  marriage  between  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  and  the  soul,  He  accepts  the  vows,  even 
though  we  are  not  conscious  that  love  goes  with 
them ;  because  He  can  control  the  human  heart 
when  the  will  is  given  into  His  keeping ;  and  He 
knows  that  the  love  will  follow.  Am  I  making 
my  meaning  plain  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  think  so.  It  is  something 
of  that  kind  which  has  troubled  me.  I  did  not 
feel  sure  that  I  loved — any  one.  1  don't  think 
I  feel  with  my  heart  at  all ;  it  is  just  my  judg 
ment." 

"  Is  your  judgment  willing  to  make  the  decision, 
and  leave  the  feelings  to  Him  ?  "  There  was  not 
an  immediate  reply  to  this  question,  and  after  wait 
ing  a  moment  Mr.  Maxwell  continued :  "  It  was 
once  my  privilege  to  work  in  a  series  of  meetings 
with  an  old  and  eminently  successful  minister  of 
Christ,  and  I  remember,  and  have  occasion  to  do 


"  GIVE  ME  WHAT  I  NEED."  269 

so  with  deep  gratitude,  the  form  of  covenant  which 
he  used.  It  ran  in  this  wise  :  '  I  do  now  upon  my 
knees  in  Thy  presence  give  myself  to  Thee  ;  I  do 
this  honestly,  intelligently,  deliberately  for  time 
and  for  eternity.'  Are  you  ready  to  make  such  a 
surrender  of  self  as  that  ?  " 

Marjorie  had  removed  her  eyes  from  the  smoul 
dering  fire  and  was  looking  down  ;  she  was  still 
silent  for  several  moments,  then  she  raised  her 
eyes  to  his  face  and  spoke  slowly. 

"  I  believe  I  am,  Mr.  Maxwell,  if  I  understand 
myself;  I  think  I  am  in  dead  earnest.  I  have 
thought  about  this  matter  before,  of  course,  but 
never  as  I  have  to-night.  I  may  say  that  I  had 
reached  the  decision  before  I  came  downstairs ;  I 
came  in  search  of  a  book  which  I  thought  might 
show  me  the  way  to  do  it.  But  I  think  I  under 
stand  you  perhaps  better  than  I  should  have  un 
derstood  the  book ;  still,  I  am  not  satisfied  ;  I  feel 
mean !  It  seems  to  me  that  I  am  taking  all,  and 
giving  nothing.  There  is  nothing  in  me  for  Christ 
to  love  ;  I  do  not  know  how  it  is  possible  for  Him 
to  love  me ;  I  am  selfish,  and  hard,  and  utterly 
hateful;  yet  I  cannot  help  wanting  His  love  and 
care."  The  tears  started  as  she  spoke,  and  dropped 
slowly  down  on  the  hand  with  which  she  suddenly 
covered  her  eyes. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  that  is  what  we  bring  to  Him. 
Utterly  unworthy  of  His  love  ;  selfish,  we  seem  to 
ourselves  in  our  very  longing  for  it ;  unable,  it 
seems  to  us  to  do  a  thing  for  Him  in  return, — yet 


270  MAKING  FATE. 

He  waits  for  just  such  gifts  as  these ;  pledges 
eternal  love  and  care,  and  begs  us  to  accept  the 
gift.  May  I  kneel  with  you  now,  Miss  Edmonds, 
and  will  you  give  yourself  to  Him,  while  He 
waits?" 

Her  answer  was  to  rise  and  drop  on  her  knees. 
A  moment's  solemn  stillness,  then  her  voice,  clear 
and  steady,  repeated  as  nearly  as  she  could  remem 
ber  them  the  words  which  Mr.  Maxwell  had  given 
her.  Especially  were  the  tones  distinct  and  slow 
when  she  repeated  that  word  "  deliberately,"  and 
those  other  words,  "  for  time  and  for  eternity." 

"  Amen,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  then  he  followed 
with  a  few  earnest  words  of  prayer,  commending 
this  new-comer  to  the  special  and  tender  care  of  the 
covenant-keeping  Lord.  She  remembered  long 
afterward  how  earnestly  he  asked  that  her  heart 
might  be  so  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  love  of 
Christ  as  to  make  all  other  loves  seem  unnecessary. 
As  they  arose,  he  held  out  his  hand  to  her  with  a 
grave  smile. 

"  It  is  needless  to  try  to  tell  you  how  much  I 
thank  you,"  he  said,  "  for  letting  me  be  a  witness 
to  this  compact.  I  feel  that  it  means  solemn  busi 
ness,  not  only  for  eternity,  but  for  time  ;  and 
there  is  a  sense  in  which  that  is  more  important 
to  us  now,  than  eternity.  It  is  our  opportunity 
for  service.  I  am  sure  there  has  been  a  worker 
received  into  the  army  to-night.  God  bless  you 
and  grant  you  the  joy  of  harvest.  I  have  no  fears 
whatever  in  regard  to  that  matter  of  feeling ;  I 


''GIVE  ME  WHAT  I  NEED:'  271 

hope  you  will  not  allow  the  enemy  of  souls  to 
torment  you  concerning  it. 

"  You  will  love  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  a 
supreme  and  all-controlling  love,  as  soon  as  you 
come  to  know  Him  better.  A  woman  like  you, 
who  admires  what  is  beautiful,  and  good,  and 
pure,  cannot  help  loving  Him.  It  is  only  because 
your  interests  have  been  absorbed  elsewhere  that 
you  have  not  settled  with  Him  long  before." 

He  walked  with  her  to  the  door  and  held  it 
open  for  her  to  pass.  It  was  at  that  moment  that 
the  sound  of  the  door-bell  pealed  through  the 
quiet  house. 


27 li  MAKING  FATE. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

AN   EVENING   OF    DECISIONS. 

MARJORIE  started  nervously.  "  It  seems  late 
for  the  bell  to  ring,"  she  said,  "  how  late  is  it  ?  " 

"  The  clock  struck  eleven  not  long  ago."  As 
Mr.  Maxwell  spoke,  he  drew  a  match  from  his 
pocket  and  lighted  the  hall  gas.  Then  he  stepped 
forward  to  the  door,  Marjorie  waiting  under  the 
gaslight  to  learn  what  could  be  wanted. 

She  remembered  for  a  long  time,  just  what  a 
strange  sensation  it  gave  her  when  the  locked  and 
bolted  door  was  finally  unfastened  and  thrown 
open,  revealing  Ralph  Bramlett !  He  uttered  a 
single  exclamation,  which  might  have  expressed 
only  surprise  ;  she  could  not  afterwards  recall  what 
it  was.  As  for  her,  her  surprise  was  so  great  that 
she  stood  quite  still  and  waited.  But  his  errand 
was  prosaic  enough.  He  had  reached  home  a 
short  time  before,  to  find  his  mother  quite  ill ; 
and  needing  a  woman's  care ;  and  his  sister  was 
out  of  town.  Could  Mrs.  Edmonds  give  him 
the  address  of  Nurse  Crawford,  who  used  to 
be  in  their  family,  and  of  whom  they  had  lost 
sight?  His  mother  thought  that  Mrs.  Edmonds 
would  know  just  where  to  find  her. 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  273 

"Yes,"  said  Marjorie,  coming  out  of  her  be 
wilderment,  and  speaking  quickly,  "  mamma  will 
know  about  her;  she  was  here  only  a  few  days 
ago.  I  will  ask  mamma."  And  she  sped  up  the 
stairs. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell  hospitably. 
"  Will  }'ou  have  a  seat  while  you  wait  ?  Mrs. 
Edmonds  has  retired,  I  believe ;  there  may  be  a 
few  minutes'  delay.  I  hope  your  mother  is  not 
seriously  ill  ?  "  But  he  need  not  have  tried  to  be 
sociable ;  the  young  man  was  in  no  mood  for 
sociability. 

His  attempt  at  reply  was  hardly  civil,  and  Mr. 
Maxwell,  feeling  that  words  from  him  were  evi 
dently  not  wanted,  stood  silently  by  until  Marjorie 
was  seen  coming  downstairs  ;  then  he  went  back  to 
the  library,  closing  the  door  after  him.  He  need  not 
have  done  so.  Ralph  Bramlett  had  no  civil  words 
even  for  Marjorie,  just  then.  In  her  heart  was  a 
kind,  grave  sympathy  for  him  ;  it  seemed  as  though 
he  must  have  heard  it  in  her  voice.  "  Mamma 
says  that  Nurse  Crawford  is  at  the  corner  of  Bond 
and  Adams  streets  ;  that  boarding-hous.e,  you  know. 
She  is  not  engaged  anywhere  and  will  be  sure  to 
go  with  you.  Oh,  Ralph,  I  hope  your  mother  is 
not  very  ill !  Mamma  wants  to  know  if  she  can 
be  of  any  assistance  ?  She  would  be  glad  to  come 
at  once,  if  she  may.  Mr.  Maxwell  will  take  her 
over  there,  I  am  sure." 

"No,"  said  Ralph,    sharply,  "she    will   not  be 

wanted.     Mother  is  not  alarmingly  ill ;  she  simply 
18 


274  MAKING  FATE. 

needs  care.  I  am  sorry  to  have  had  to  trouble 
you.  I  did  not  think  of  anybody  else  who  would 
be  likely  to  know  about  Nurse  Crawford."  Then 
he  had  turned  and  left  her  standing  in  the  door 
way.  When  he  reached  the  first  corner,  lie  looked 
back  and  Marjorie  had  disappeared  ;  Mr.  Maxwell 
stood  in  the  doorway  alone.  He  muttered  some 
thing  again,  not  complimentary  to  that  gentleman, 
and  dashed  around  the  corner  at  full  speed.  Mar 
jorie  went  slowly  back  upstairs,  Mr.  Maxwell 
having  assured  her  that  he  would  make  all  fasten 
ings  secure. 

For  a  few  weeks  past  she  had  occasionally  occu 
pied  herself  with  surmisings  as  to  when  they 
would  meet  face  to  face,  she  and  Ralph,  and  be 
compelled  to  speak  to  each  other.  Of  course  the 
time  would  come;  they  could  not  go  on  in  this 
way  through  the  years,  nor  through  the  winter. 
Even  in  church  they  might  meet  occasionally, 
though  the  Bramlett  pew  was  on  the  other  side  of 
the  church  from  them,  and  for  weeks  they  had 
successfully  avoided  each  other ;  for  that  matter, 
Ralph  had  not  been  very  regular  in  his  attendance 
at  church.  But  of  course  there  must  come  a 
change.  How  would  it  come  ?  How  would  he 
treat  her?  Did  he  mean  not  to  know  her  any 
more  ?  In  that  note  he  had  called  her  "  Miss 
Edmonds."  Must  she  say  "Mr.  Bramlett?" 
Could  she  train  her  lips  to  form  those  words  ?  She 
had  called  him  so  in  jest,  sometimes,  when  they 
were  young  together, — how  long  ago  it  seemed  ! 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  275 

She  had  tried  various  titles,  to  see  which  would 
sound  the  best.  "  Dr.  Bramlett,"  "  Judge  Bram- 
lett,"  and  the  like  ;  always  returning  to  that  word 
» "  Judge,"  and  assuring  him  that  that  was  the  one 
which  fitted  his  name  and  face.  She  thought  she 
might  in  time  learn  to  call  him  that ;  it  did  not 
sound  so  utterly  strange  as  "  Mr.  Bramlett."  Now 
they  had  'met  once  more  ;  but  what  a  strange  meet 
ing  !  "  Oh,  Ralph  !  "  she  had  said,  without  think 
ing,  under  the  fear  that  his  mother  was  seriously 
ill ;  but  he  had  repulsed  her.  He  would  not  have 
even  her  sympathy.  He  had  called  her  nothing, 
but  had  rushed  away  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  seem 
ing  to  be  almost  angry  with  her.  It  was  very 
strange ;  she  had  now  no  feeling  of  anger  in  her 
heart  toward  him.  She  could  almost  have  said  to 
him  :  "  Oh,  Ralph,  don't  treat  me  so  !  Let  us  be 
friends  ;  if  you  cannot  care  for  me  any  more,  never 
mind ;  if  you  like  Estelle  instead  of  me,  why,  you 
cannot  help  that.  I  forgive  you,  but  let  us  be 
friends."  No,  she  would  not  have  said  those 
words,  of  course,  because  he  might  have  misunder 
stood  them  ;  but  she  could  feel  them. 

Mrs.  Edmonds's  door  opened  as  her  daughter 
came  up  the  stairs  ;  she  was  hastily  dressing. 

"  What  does  he  say,  Marjorie  ?  Does  he  want 
me  to  come  ?" 

"No,  mamma,  he  said  there  was  no  need.  II.1 
does  not  think  his  mother  is  seriously  ill  ;  but  she 
needs  care,  and  Hannah  is  away.  He  went  at 
once  for  Nurse  Crawford ;  she  is  at  home,  I  saw 


276  MAKING  FATE. 

her  to-night  as  we  passed,  so  it  will  be  all  right. 
What  a  pity  it  is  that  I  disturbed  you !  if  I  had 
only  thought  a  moment,  I  might  have  told  him 
where  to  find  Nurse  Crawford  without  coming  to 
you." 

"  Daughter,  I  do  not  understand.  Did  you 
answer  the  bell  ?  and  have  you  been  up  all  this 
time?  How  came  you  to  go  down,  dear,  alone? 
I  do  not  like  to  have  you  answering  bells  at  this 
time  of  night." 

"I  did  not,  mother.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  in  the 
back-parlor,  studying  those  old  books,  and  he  went 
to  the  door.  I  was  downstairs,  too,  so  I  saw  Ralph 
as  soon  as  the  door  was  opened." 

Was  that  sufficient  explanation?  Her  mother 
regarded  her  curiously,  somewhat  anxiously.  Were 
there  always  to  be  secrets  between  her  daughter 
and  herself?  The  communicating  door  was  still 
closed.  She  had  noticed  it  with  a  sigh,  when  she 
dropped  asleep,  after  waiting  long,  it  seemed  to 
her.  The  anxious  look  in  her  eyes  went  to  Mar- 
jorie's  heart ;  she  wanted  to  be  very  tender  of  her 
mother. 

"  It  is  not  late,  Motherie,"  she  said,  using  the 
pet  name  which  the  mother  had  not  heard  for 
several  weeks.  "  It  could  not  have  been  much 
after  ten  when  I  went  downstairs.  I  was  in  search 
of  an  old  book  of  ours,  hoping  that  it  would  give 
me  some  help  in  a  line  where  I  greatly  needed 
it  ;  but  I  found  Mr.  Maxwell  among  the  books, 
and  lie  gave  me  just  the  help  I  was  searching  for, 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  277 

Motherie,  I  wanted  to  know  how  to  give  myself 
away  forever  into  the  keeping  of  Jesus  Christ ; 
and  he  told  me  how.  That  will  make  you  glad, 
will  it  not  ?  " 

Will  Marjorie  ever  have  sweeter  kisses  than 
those  with  which  her  mother  covered  cheeks  and 
lips  ?  Will  her  head  be  ever  drawn  to  a  tenderer 
human  resting-place  than  the  mother's  breast 
afforded?  "Glad?"  Mrs.  Edmonds,  quiet,  re 
served  woman  that  she  was,  could  have  shouted 
for  joy !  She  knew  it  meant  so  much ;  this  sur 
render  of  her  daughter's.  By  nature  timid  and 
shrinking,  she  had,  by  turns,  admired,  and  stood 
appalled,  before  the  indomitable  energy  and  per 
sistence  of  her  child,  and  wondered  whereunto 
such  power  would  lead  her.  But  now  that  she  had. 
accepted  a  Leader,  the  mother  could  feel  how  surely 
she  would  follow  Him,  and  of  what  value  her 
strength  of  will  would  he  in  His  service. 

Then  at  last,  Marjorie  turned  the  key  in  her  own 
door,  and  was  alone  once  more  on  this  eventful 
night.  She  went  and  stood  before  her  dressing- 
bureau,  and  looked  at  herself  deliberately  in  the 
mirror.  Had  any  outward  change  taken  place  in 
her  appearance  ?  Of  course  there  had  not,  and  she 
smiled  at  her  childishness,  but  a  strange  restful- 
ness  had  certainly  come  into  her  heart.  She  felt 
as  though  her  feet  rested  at  last  on  firm  ground;  she 
realized  that  a  matter  of  infinite  importance  had 
been  settled  since  she  last  stood  there.  Whatever 
came  to  her  in  the  near  or  distant  future,  nothing 


278  MAKING  FATE. 

could  unsettle  the  security  of  her  present  foothold. 
Life  had  taken  on  a  new  and  solemn  meaning  ;  it 
was  serious  business,  it  was  true,  to  live,  but  it 
was  also  dignified  business,  worthy  of  an  immortal 
soul's  best  efforts.  Hitherto  she  had  played  at 
life ;  now  she  would  begin  to  live  in  earnest. 

It  was  not  until  the  gas  had  been  turned  out 
for  the  night,  and  the  communicating  door  had 
been  set  wide  open,  and  Marjorie's  head  was  rest 
ing  on  her  pillow,  that  she  remembered  that  her 
handkerchief  was  still  in  Mr.  Maxwell's  possession. 
***** 

It  would  perhaps  be  hard  to  imagine  a  greater 
contrast  than  Ralph  Bramlett's  New  Year's  even 
ing  presented  to  this  one  of  Marjorie's.  It  will  be 
remembered  that  he  was  a  man  of  moods,  and  the 
great  barometer  in  the  office  where  he  toiled,  could 
not  have  indicated  changes  of  temperature  more 
rapidly  than  his  mental  moods  changed  front. 
Very  recently  he  had  determined  within  himself 
that  it  was  high  time  to  end  this  farce.  He  had 
punished  Marjorie,  and  for  that  matter  himself  too, 
quite  enough.  Probably  the  reason  why  she  did 
not  write  to  him,  as  he  had  fully  expected  her 
to  do,  was  because  her  immaculate  mother  did  not 
approve  of  it.  He  would  call  upon  her,  formally 
enough,  as  he  might  on  any  passing  acquaintance, 
but  her  way  of  receiving  the  call  should  guide  him 
as  to  his  next  step.  In  his  secret  heart  he  believed 
that  there  would  be  no  difficulty  about  that  next 
step.  There  were  moments  when  he  felt  quite 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  279 

certain  that  Marjorie's  reception  of  his  advances 
would  be  all  that  he  could  desire.  Then  he 
heard  that  the  Edmonds's  home  would  depart 
from  its  time-honored  custom  and  not  open  its 
doors  to  New  Year's  callers.  For  a  few,  minutes 
he  was  annoyed  ;  in  the  next  few  he  had  decided 
that  this  was  so  much  in  his  favor.  He  was  not 
supposed  to  know  that  the  house  was  not  open  as 
usual ;  he  would  ring  their  bell,  and  if  the  little 
maid,  who  was  in  the  habit  of  serving  them  on 
special  days,  responded,  he  would  tell  her  that  he 
was  too  old  a  friend  to  stand  on  ceremony  and  bid 
her  take  his  card  to  Miss  Marjorie.  This,  he  told 
himself,  would  be  a  stroke  of  genius;,  if  Marjorie 
once  got  his  card  in  her  possession,  he  felt  sure  of 
the  rest,  and  they  would  not  be  annoyed  by  call 
ers.  If  Mrs.  Edmonds  should  answer  the  bell 
herself,  he  would  be  as  dignified  as  she  could 
possibly  be,  but  he  would  inform  her  that  he 
wished  to  see  Miss  Marjorie  on  important  business. 
"  She  will  hardly  deny  me  the  house  !  "  he  said, 
waxing  indignant  over  her  possible  coldness.  It 
will  have  to  be  admitted,  in  passing,  that  he  a^o 
prepared  for  another  possibility  by  muttering  to 
himself  that  if  that  puppy  of  a  Maxwell  came  to 
the  door  he  would  kick  him  down  the  steps  ! 

To  one  of  Ralph  Bramlett's  temperament,  having 
carried  out  his  intentions  mentally  to  such  perfec 
tion,  even  having  arranged  a  programme  of  the  con 
versation,  according  to  his  favorite  method,  imagine 
what  it  was  to  have  his  plans  completely  over- 


280  MAKING  FATE. 

turned  by  seeing  Marjorie  drive  gayly  by,  not  only 
seated  beside  Mr.  Maxwell,  but  actually  driving 
his  handsome  horses  for  him.  It  was  character 
istic  of  the  type  of  young  men  to  which  he  be 
longed  that  he  took  jealous  thought,  even  then,  to 
the  fact  that  the  horses  were  finer  than  any  which 
he  had  to  drive.  After  that,  imagine  the  torture 
which  he  must  have  endured  for  the  next  hour,  in 
listening  to  Estelle  Douglass's  eager  information  ; 
having  first  committed  himself  before  her  in  a  way 
which  he  could  not  but  feel  would  make  his  future 
with  Marjorie  more  difficult  still.  Having  re 
turned  Estelle  to  her  place  in  the  McAllister 
parlors,  this  much-abused  man  gave  himself  up  to 
gloom  for  the  next  few  hours  ;  evolving  only  this. 
out  of  the  chaos  of  his  thoughts,  that  he  would 
find  out  if  possible  just  how  far  Marjorie's  intimacy 
with  her  mother's  lodger  had  progressed.  The 
person  who  could  tell  him  a  great  deal,  he  was 
convinced,  was  Estelle  Douglass.  With  this 
thought  in  view  he  called  upon  her  as  early  in  the 
evening  as  he  could  hope  to  find  her  at  home,  and 
v^ry  soon  began  what  he  thought  was  a  skillful 
method  of  questioning,  to  secure  all  the  informa 
tion  which  she  possessed.  Unfortunately  for  his 
peace  of  mind,  Estelle  believed  that  she  possessed  a 
great  deal.  Glyde's  innocent  remarks  concerning 
Mr.  Max  well's  reading  aloud  in  the  Edmonds's  par 
lor,  her  accounts  of  their  plans  for  New  Year's  day, 
and  above  all,  the  eager  story  which  she  had  to  tell 
that  evening,  had  furnished  her  far-seeing  sister 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  281 

with  much  material.  In  truth,  her  translation  of 
certain  remarks  of  Marjorie's  and  of  Mr.  M.'ix- 
well's,  would  not  have  been  recognized  by  them 
selves.  Not  that  Estelle  meant  to  falsify,  or  had 
an  idea  that  she  was  really  doing  so ;  she  possessed 
a  vivid  imagination,  and  wanted  to  believe  in  the 
theory  which  she  built  up  out  of  her  meager  facts. 
She  was  successful  to  the  degree  that  she  con 
vinced  Ralph  Bramlett  that  Marjorie  had  been, 
what  he  chose  to  call  "playing  a  part"  with  him. 
He  jumped  immediately  to  the  wildest  conclusions  ; 
made  himself  believe  that  even  at  the  time  she  had 
written  that  last  note  to  him,  she  was  receiving 
Mr.  Maxwell's  special  attentions.  Nay,  it  was 
entirely  possible  that  there  had  been  an  under 
standing  between  them  on  that  very  night  in  which 
she  had  walked  away  from  the  Schuyler  farm  in  a 
supposed  burst  of  indignation.  Was  it  probable 
that  she  would  have  started  off  on  a  seven-miles 
walk  at  that  time  of  night,  if  she  had  not  been 
reasonably  sure  of  being  met  and  taken  care  of? 
It  astonished  and  disgusted  him  that  he  had  not 
thought  of  this  before.  It  was  all  very  plain 
now,  he  told  himself ;  from  first  to  last  he  had 
been  made  a  fool  of!  Marjorie  had  pretended 
to  be  devoted  to  him  at  the  very  time  when 
she  was  using  him  as  a  foil,  the  better  to  show 
off  her  perfections  to  Mr.  Maxwell. 

How  he  could  have  concocted  such  an  absurd  the 
ory  as  that  out  of  any  material  with  which  he  had  to 
build,  cannot  be  explained  by  any  laws  based  upon 


282  MAKING  FATE. 

reason  and  common  sense ;  it  must  simply  be 
remembered  that  he  was  a  man  of  extremes ;  that 
he  paid,  when  he  was  in  a  certain  humor,  the  least 
possible  attention  to  the  dictates  of  common  sense, 
and  that  the  whim  of  the  passing  moment  governed 
him  to  an  alarming  degree.  Left  to  himself,  lie 
might  have  concluded  by  the  next  day  that  he  had 
been  unnecessarily  hasty,  and  that  Marjorie  had 
been  simply  treating  Mr.  Maxwell  as  he  had  Estelle 
Douglass,  entertaining  herself  during  the  period  of 
coldness  between  them.  In  the  course  of  the  next 
thirty-six  hours  he  would  almost  certainly  have 
gotten  back  to  his  complacent  frame  of  mind,  and 
been  ready  to  plan  again  for  that  interrupted  call. 
But  he  was  not  left  to  himself.  Estelle  took  care 
to  plan  that  she  should  not  be  interrupted  by  other 
callers,  and  as  her  sister  Fannie  was  not  at  home, 
she  and  Ralph  had  the  evening  together. 

"  So  you  think  they  are  really  engaged  ?  "  he 
tried  to  ask  the  question  carelessly,  interrupting 
some  remark  of  hers,  to  do  it. 

"  Why  I  think  they  must  be,  of  course.  How 
else  is  such  exceeding  familiarity  to  be  accounted 
for?  To  judge  from  Glyde's  reports,  they  have 
gotten  so  far  that  they  put  all  ceremony  aside  and 
treat  each  other  like  people  who  have  had  an  un 
derstanding  for  ever  so  long.  That  isn't  like  Mar 
jorie,  you  know,  unless  there  is  an  engagement.  I 
always  thought  her  a  very  reticent  person.  Oh, 
I  wouldn't  have  had  such  an  idea,  if  you  had  not 
told  me  this  afternoon  that  there  was  nothing 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  283 

whatever  between  you  and  her,  and  had  never  been, 
save  a  boy-and-girl  friendship.  I  confess  that  I 
have  not  understood  it,  and  that  I  have  been  dis 
tressed  both  for  Marjorie,  and  for  you.  But  the 
moment  you  told  me  that,  and  I  realized  that  you 
and  she  had  simply  been  like  brother  and  sister  all 
these  years,  it  threw  a  new  light  upon  everything. 
I  hope  it  will  be  all  right  with  Marjorie  ;  he  seems 
very  much  of  a  stranger ;  they  really  do  not  know 
any  thing  about  him,  of  course,  except  what  he  says 
of  himself.  But  he  is  wealthy  I  have  heard,  and 
Marjorie  likes  money;  at  least,  she  likes  the  luxuries 
which  money  will  produce  ;  and  she  is  fond  of 
position,  too.  He  is  an  author,  you  know ;  and  a 
college  professor  besides  ;  one  who  has  been  given 
a  year's  vacation  to  enable  him  to  complete  the 
preparation  of  some  stupid  book  ; — text-book,  I 
think.  It  must  be  a  dreadful  bore  to  have  to  do, 
all  the  time,  with  such  an  extremely  literary  man  ; 
but  I  presume  that  is  what  fascinated  Marjorie  at 
first.  She  is  a  little  bit  inclined  to  be  aristocratic 
in  her  tastes;  I  have  always  known  that.  Mrs. 
Edmonds  is  not  wealthy,  it  is  true,  but  she  belongs 
to  a  very  old  family;  and  Marjorie  was  always 
disposed,  I  think,  to  look  down  a  little  on  people 
who  had  to  earn  their  living  in  ways  which  did 
not  happen  to  suit  her  taste." 

Ralph  was  turning  over  piles  of  music,  while 
Estelle  was  saying  this,  supposed  to  be  hunting 
for  a  song  which  she  had  asked  him  to  sing  with 
her.  He  bent  lower  over  the  music-rack  in  the 


284  MAKING  FATE. 

hope  that  she  might  not  see  the  dark  flush  which 
overspread  his  face  at  these  words.  He  felt  that 
he  understood  her  only  too  well.  What  could  she 
mean  but  that  Marjorie  had  looked  down  upon 
him  because  he  was  earning  his  living  as  a  book 
keeper,  instead  of  being  a  law-student,  as  he  knew 
she  had  wished  him  to  be?  Well,  let  her  go! 
After  all  these  years  of  intimacy  with  him,  if  she 
had  been  fascinated  by  a  stranger  because  he  could 
write  books,  and  had  a  title  or  two  after  his  name, 
she  was  not  worthy  of  an  honest  man's  love.  He 
would  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  her. 

He  found  the  music,  at  last,  and  they  sang  the 
song ;  Estelle  remarking  cheerfully  at  its  close : 
*'  Our  voices  sound  well  together,  I  think.  What 
a  pity  we  haven't  an  audience  !  Suppose  we  were 
to  go  around  giving  parlor  concerts?  We  might 
make  a  good  deal  of  money.  We  would  look  very 
well  together,  too;  we  are  of  about  the  right" size. 
We  could  take  Glyde  along  to  play  the  accom 
paniments.  Wouldn't  that  be  an  original  way  to 
raise  funds?" 

She  laughed  gayly  as  she  spoke,  and  was  talk 
ing  the  merest  nonsense,  of  course.  But  Ralph 
replied  gravely,  "  We  would  look  reasonably  well 
together,  perhaps,  under  any  circumstances.  I  do 
not  know  but  you  and  I  are  fairly  well  suited 
to  each  other.  How  would  it  do  to  enter  into 
partnership  on  other  lines  than  concert-giving  ?  " 

He  spoke  under  impulse,  of  course.  When  did 
this  young  man  speak  in  any  other  way  ?  He 


AN  EVENING  OF  DECISIONS.  285 

hardly  realized  the  import  of  what  he  was  saying. 
The  strongest  feeling  of  which  he  was  conscious 
at  the  moment  was  a  desire  to  show  Marjorie 
Edmonds  in  some  way  that  he  was  by  no  means 
broken-hearted  over  her,  nor  did  he  lack  for  in 
timate  companionship  because  she  had  played  him 
false.  He  was,  possibly,  unprepared  for  the  deep 
womanly  flush  on  Estelle's  face,  and  the  light  in 
her  eyes.  He  was  certainly  unprepared  for  the 
warmth  of  her  reply.  He  went  home  very  early, 
that  evening,  much  earlier  than  Estelle  thought 
desirable,  and  he  told  himself  moodily,  as  he  walked 
away,  that  he  had  gotten  himself  into  trouble  now! 
Why  had  he  been  such  an  idiot  as  to  speak  out 
his  passing  thoughts? 

At  home,  he  had  found  the  state  of  affairs 
which  has  been  explained,  and  had  hurried  back 
to  town,  glad  of  any  excuse  which  would  oblige 
him  to  call  at  the  Edmonds's  home.  On  the  way 
he  speculated  as  to  what  might  result  from  this 
call.  Suppose  he  should  happen  to  see  Marjorie  ? 
He  could  hardly  ask  for  her  at  so  late  an  hour, 
but  she  might  be  there,  and  they  might  have  a 
few  minutes'  talk  together  ;  and  a  very  few  min 
utes  might,  perhaps,  right  all  wrongs.  Yes,  he 
forgot  Estelle  Douglass  entirely,  and  the  words 
he  had  spoken  to  her — that  mood  had  passed  ;  he 
was  in  a  reverent  one  now,  and  called  his  mother's 
illness  a  special  interposition  of  Providence  in  his 
behalf.  When  he  rr.ng  the  bell,  he  had  planned  the 
words  which  he  would  speak  to  Marjorie,  feeling 


286  MAKING  FATE. 

sure  that  he  would  see  her.     Would  not  Provi 
dence  take  care  of  that  ? 

And  he  had  seen  her  standing  there  under  the 
gas-jet  with  a  strange  light  on  her  face,  such  as 
he  by  no  means  understood.  The  language  of  the 
country  whence  it  was  born  was  utterly  unfa 
miliar  to  him.  Of  course  he  misunderstood  the 
situation.  Of  course  Marjorie  and  Mr.  Maxwell 
had  been  spending  the  evening  together,  and  were 
taking  leave  of  each  other,  probably,  when  he 
interrupted  them.  It  was  her  feeling  for  him 
which  could  put  such  a  light  into  the  girl's  eyes  ! 
The  thought  made  him  angry  ;  so  bitterly  angry, 
that  he  could  hardly  treat  her  with  the  outward 
courtesy  which  decency  demanded.  As  he  rushed 
away  into  the  night,  he  thought  again  of  Estelle, 
and  told  himself  that  it  was  just  as  well  that  he 
had  spoken  to  her  as  he  did.  She  cared  for  him, 
at  least;  and  it  was  more  than  Marjorie  had  ever 
done.  There  wasn't  any  such  thing  as  real  dis 
interested  love  in  the  world  ;  he  had  proved  it. 


PRINCIPLES  AXD  PROFESSIONS.  287 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

PRINCIPLES   AND   PROFESSIONS. 

IN  due  course  of  time,  the  first  Sabbath  in  the 
new  year  arrived,  and  Ralph  Bramlett  succeeded 
in  creating  fully  as  much  of  a  sensation  as  he  had 
planned.  His  mother  was  better,  but  too  ill  to 
think  of  attending  church.  This  being  the  case, 
he  had  magnanimously  decided  to  tell  her  of  his 
intentions  that  Sabbath  morning.  He  had  been 
touched  by  her  way  of  receiving  the  news.  She 
was  a  shy,  quiet  mother,  always  dominated  by  her 
children,  especially  by  her  son.  But  she  had  kissed 
him,  a  thing  she  had  not  seemed  to  find  oppor 
tunity  to  do  since  he  had  considered  himself  a 
man,  and  shed  a  few  tears  over  him,  as  she  told 
him  that  he  was  her  dear  boy ;  that  she  had 
always  known  he  would  be  a  comfort  to  her ;  and 
that  she  had  long  looked  forward  in  the  hope  of 
such  a  day.  If  she  could  only  be  in  church  to  see 
him  received,  her  bliss  would  be  complete.  He 
had  returned  the  kiss  warmly,  arid  assured  her 
that  he  meant  to  be  a  comfort  to  her,  always,  in 
the  future,  as  in  the  past,  and  had  gone  away 
feeling  that  he  was  a  good  son  in  every  way. 
That  there  were  not  many  like  him. 


288  MAKING  FATE. 

As  they  were  driving  to  church,  Ralph  be 
thought  himself  that  it  might  be  better  to  explain 
matters  to  his  father,  lest  the  surprise  be  too 
great  for  him.  Mr.  Bramlett  was  not  a  professing 
Christian,  but  his  son  had  no  hesitancy  in  talking 
about  such  topics  with  him,  and  felt  at  no  loss  for 
the  proper  words. 

"  By  the  way,  father,"  he  said,  just  as  his  father 
had  concluded  a  sentence  about  the  unusually 
mild  weather  they  were  having  for  that  time  of 
year,  "  I  am  to  unite  with  the  church  to-day ;  I 
thought  I  would  perhaps  better  mention  it,  lest 
you  might  be  taken  by  surprise." 

"  Well !  "  said  Mr.  Bramlett,  the  single  word 
bristling  with  surprise,  "I  certainly  am  astonished. 
I  hadn't  thought  of  such  a  thing.  When  did  you 
decide  that  ?  It  is  a  sudden  move  on  your  part, 
isn't  it?" 

"  Not  particularly  so,  sir ;  my  mind  was  made 
up  some  days  ago." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Bramlett  again,  after  a 
thoughtful  silence,  "  I  suppose  I  am  glad  to  hear 
it ;  I  ought  to  be.  •  I  respect  that  sort  of  thing, 
when  it  is  genuine.  I  hope  you  know  what  you 
are  about,  and  mean  it." 

"  I  generally  know  what  I  am  about,  I  believe," 
said  Ralph  with  dignity. 

"Yes,  you  think  you  do,  I  am  sure.  What  I 
mean  is,  that  it  would  be  a  serious  matter  to  make 
any  mistakes  in  this  line.  It  always  seemed  to 
me  to  be  a  very  important  thing,  this  making  a 


PRINCIPLES  AND  PROFESSIONS.  289 

profession  of  religion  ;  I  know  a  good  many  people 
who  don't  appear  to  do  anything  but  profess  it ; 
but  there  is  a  genuine  kind,  and  I  have  seen  it. 
I  wouldn't  want  any  other  kind  myself." 

"  I  don't  think  I  understand  you,  sir.  I  trust 
you  do  not  mean  to  intimate  that  I  am  not  in 
earnest  in  this  matter ;  that  my  kind  isn't  gen 
uine  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  ;  of  course  not.  I  didn't  mean 
anything  special.  I  was  only  trying  to  put  you 
on  your  guard.  Young  people  sometimes  enter 
into  that  sort  of  thing  thoughtlessly,  I  think. 
Though  you  are  not  one  of  the  thoughtless  sort, 
exactly,  either.  Well,  I  hope  you  will  be  glad 
of  it." 

Silence  for  a  few  minutes,  then  Mr.  Bramlett 
spoke  again. — "  You  will  be  getting  out  of  your 
present  business  pretty  soon,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  why,  I  am  sure."  The  son  spoke 
testily.  "  What  has  my  present  business  to  do  with 
it  ?  I  am  giving  entire  satisfaction,  I  believe,  to 
my  employers,  and  am  earning  more  money  than 
has  been  earned  in  a  single  year  on  the  farm,  since  I 
have  known  it.  Why  should  I  undertake  to  make 
a  change  ;  at  least  in  these  hard  times  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  ;  you  know  what  I  think 
about  these  things,  Ralph.  I  am  not  a  professor 
of  religion,  myself,  but  as  a  man  I  have  my  views. 
You  know  I  have  never  looked  with  satisfaction 
on  this  business  of  yours  ;  there  is  something  to  be 
considered  besides  money.  It  didn't  seem  to  me 


290  MAKING  FATE. 

that  it  belonged  to  a  religious  profession,  to  have 
to  do  with  a  distillery." 

"  If  you  will  excuse  the  expression,  sir,  I  must 
say  that  I  consider  that  utter  nonsense !  I 
have  no  more  to  do  with  the  distillery  than  you 
have.  I  suppose  I  would  abolish  it  to-morrow,  if  I 
had  the  power.  I  am  certainly  just  as  much  of  a 
temperance  man  as  I  ever  was  in  my  life  ;  but  why 
not  look  at  these  things  from  a  common-sense 
standpoint,  instead  of  as  children  ?  The  distillery 
is  in  existence,  and  its  bookkeeping  has  to  be  done 
by  somebody.  Why  in  the  world  shouldn't  I  do 
it,  and  get  the  salary  which  they  are  willing  to  pay 
for  it?  There  is  neither  more  nor  less  liquor 
made  because  I  am  keeping  the  books.  I  look  at 
that  from  a  purely  business  point  of  view.  As 
matters  stand  with  us,  I  cannot  afford  to  throw 
away  a  fifteen-hundred  dollar  salary  for  the  sake 
of  sentiment." 

"Is.it  mere  sentiment,  Ralph?  Suppose  the 
business  were  the  making  of  counterfeit  money  ?  " 

His  son  gave  an  irritable  twist  to  his  shoulders 
and  prefaced  his  reply  by  a  contemptuous  exclama 
tion  which  is  beyond  the  scope  of  orthography. 
He  did  not  believe  that  his  father's  strength  con 
sisted  in  argument.  "  That  strikes  me  as  an  ex 
ceedingly  irrelevant  remark,  as  far  from  referring 
to  a  parallel  case  as  possible  ;  the  making  of 
counterfeit  money  is  against  the  law.  The  busi 
ness  in  which  the  Snyders  are  engaged  is  sustained 
by  the  laws  of  the  land;  and  they  occupy  an 


PRINCIPLES  AND  PROFESSIONS.  291 

exceedingly  respectable  position  in  the  world.  If 
I  ever  reach  as  prominent  a  place  as  any  member 
of  that  firm  holds,  in  the  world's  opinion,  I  shall 
have  cause  to  be  thankful.  It  does  not  seem 
to  be  necessary  for  us  to  discuss  these  matters  any 
further,  father.  My  mind  is  quite  made  up,  and 
my  conscience  is  entirely  at  ease.  Meantime,  the 
family,  you  will  remember,  is  profiting  by  my  de- 
oision.  It  would  not  have  been  possible  for  me  to 
have  surrounded  my  mother  with  as  many  com 
forts  as  I  have  since  she  was  taken  ill,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  salary  which  it  seems  to  be  orthodox 
to  despise." 

If  his  aim  was  to  silence  his  father,  he  succeeded ; 
Mr.  Bramlett  was  not  at  any  time  a  man  of  many 
words. 

The  day  was  beautiful,  and  the  large  church  was 
well  filled.  Those  who  were  not  regular  in  their 
attendance  at  any  other  time,  made  an  effort  to  get 
out  to  the  first  communion  service  of  the  year, — 
that  time  which  seems  to  be  almost  weighed  down 
with  the  good  and  weak  resolutions  of  the  careless 
and  ill  at  ease. 

A  larger  number  than  usual  of  those  who  were 
not  communicants  were  present.  It  had  in  some 
way  gotten  abroad  among  the  young  people  of 
their  circle  that  Ralph  Bramlett  was  on  that  day 
to  be  received  into  the  church.  In  short,  nearly 
everything  connected  with  this  new  departure  of 
his  had  worked  according  to  his  mind.  Dr. 
Ford  upon  being  notified  of  the  young  man's  in- 


292  MAKING  FATE. 

tentions,  had  expressed  his  unbounded  gratification 
thereat,  and  had  taken  the  deepest  interest  in  the 
whole  matter.  Among  other  questions  asked,  had 
come  this : 

"  Do  you  care  to  tell  me  what  led  you  to  a  con 
sideration  of  this  subject  ?  Or  rather,  what  led 
you  to  make  the  final  decision  ?  " 

Over  this  Ralph  had  reflected  thoughtfully  for 
a  few  moments,  and  then  had  replied  that  he  sup 
posed  he  might  say  he  had  brought  himself  to  the 
decision.  The  question  had  presented  itself  to 
him  one  night,  not  only  as  eminently  practical,  but 
as  one  which  a  reasonable  person  ought  to  decide 
without  further  delay  ;'  and  he  had  accordingly 
done  so.  This  reply  seemed  to  impress  his  pastor 
exceedingly.  He  repeated  it  to  the  Examining 
Committee,  and  remarked  that  it  was  011  illustra 
tion  of  the  power  of  a  cultivated  conscience  ;  and 
an  encouraging  reminder  of  the  fact  that  the  truth 
was  working  in  quiet  ways  of  which  they  knew 
nothing.  He  went  home  greatly  encouraged,  and 
told  his  wife  that  young  Bramlett  was  a  rather 
unusual  young  man ;  truly  he  should  think  a  man 
of  decision  and  of  action.  Such  a  person  ought 
to  be  a  power  among  young  men  especially ;  he 
looked  to  see  results  from  the  stand  which  had 
been  taken  that  day. 

His  wife  said:  "Bramlett; — there  is  but  one 
young  man  in  the  Bramlett  family,  is  there  ? 
He  must  be  the  one  who  has  accepted  a  clerk 
ship  in  that  great  distillery  where  the  Snyders 


PRINCIPLES  AND  PROFESSIONS.  293 

make  their  money.  A  rather  strange  position  for 
one  to  take  who  was  contemplating  uniting  with 
the  church,  was  it  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  minister,  thoughtfully.  "  I 
suppose  this  decision  came  afterwards  ;  I  had  for 
gotten  that  he  was  employed  there.  Of  course,  he 
is  only  a  bookkeeper ;  but  then, — if  he  were  my 
son  I  shouldn't  like  it.  He  will  probably  make  a 
change  as  soon  as  he  can.  Some  things  are  queer, 
my  doar.  Perhaps  we  should  not  expect  too  much 
of  young  men  who  have  to  earn  their  own  living. 
I  learned  the  other  day  that  our  Mr.  Bemus,  who 
has  been  a  member  of  this  church  for  at  least 
thirty  years,  is  the  probable  owner,  not  only  of 
that  large  hotel  on  the  corner  of  Bond  and  Bel- 
mont  Streets  but  of  the  cafe*  and  saloon  connected 
with  it,  on  the  other  corner. 

"  Is  it  possible  !  "  said  Mrs.  Ford.  "  Still,  an 
owner  seems  a  little  different,  doesn't  it?  He 
doesn't  run  the  hotel." 

"  No,  he  only  leases  it  for  a  very  large  sum,  and 
pockets  the  money.  Some  of  it  he  puts  into  our 
church ;  quite  a  good  deal,  indeed ;  he  is  benev 
olently  inclined,  you  know.  The  hotel  is  chiefly 
famous  for  the  choice  wines  and  liquors  which  it 
furnishes  its  guests.  What  can  we  look  for  from 
the  Ralph  Bramletts  of  the  world,  when  the 
church  sets  them  such  brilliant  examples  ?  " 

He  sighed  as  he  spoke.  He  was  a  young  minister, 
and  had  not  been  long  in  this  pastorate';  and 
every  day  gave  him  some  fresh  item  to  consider. 


294  MAKING  FATE. 

There  were  times  when  he  could  not  but  feel  that 
the  problems  of  life  were  thickening  around  him. 
Oh,  for  young  strong  men  to  lean  upon  and  to 
lead  into  the  thick  of  the  conflict  !  Would  Ralph 
Bramlett  prove  such  an  one  ? 

The  Examining  Committee  had  decided  that 
his  examination  was  eminently  satisfactory.  So 
was  his  public  reception.  It  was,  as  he  had  sup 
posed  it  would  be,  more  marked,  because  of  his 
coming  entirely  alone.  One  or  two  of  the  brethren 
had  commented  on  that ;  they  said  it  showed 
independence  of  character,  and  a  strong  conviction 
of  his  duty.  It  cannot  be  denied  that,  as  the 
young  man  stood  before  the  altar  listening  to  and 
giving  grave  assent  to  the  articles  of  faith  which 
that  church  held,  he  looked  in  all  respects  the 
model.  More  than  one  mother  thought  so,  and 
sighed,  and  wished  that  their  sons  could  have  stood 
beside  him  ;  some  of  them  thought  that  his  mother 
ought  to  have  been  there  to  see.  They  gathered 
about  him  after  service,  old  friends,  and  many  new 
ones,  and  shook  hands,  and  congratulated  him,  and 
themselves  ;  some  of  them  spoke  earnest  words  of 
advice ;  old  men  in  the  church,  who  held  his  hand 
in  a  firm  grasp  as  they  did  so ;  and  he  bent  his 
head  toward  them  and  listened  with  deference, 
and  honestly  meant  to  profit  by  their  words,  and 
looked  handsome  and  distinguished,  and — could 
not  forget  that  he  did ! 

When  he  had  first  planned  this  entire  scene,  it 
was  Mrs.  Edmonds  and  her  daughter  whom  he  had 


PRINCIPLES  AND  PROFESSIONS.  295 

especially  meant  to  impress.  He  hardly  knew 
what  he  had  expected  from  them.  It  happened 
that  their  seat  was  across  the  church  from  the  one 
that  he  occupied,  as  far  removed  from  his,  indeed, 
as  space  would  permit;  and  during  the  period  of 
their  estrangement,  it  had  not  seemed  strange  that 
they  had  not  even  exchanged  bows,  on  Sundays  ; 
but  on  this  day  it  was  all  to  be  different,  he  had 
meant  to  put  himself  directly  in  their  way.  Once 
he  had  planned  to  hold  out  his  hand  to  Mrs. 
Edmonds  and  gravely  and  magnanimously  forgive 
her  for  all  the  supposed  evil  which  she  had  done 
him.  On  New  Year's  day  he  had  almost  decided 
not  to  make  that  proposed  call,  in  order  to  have 
the  excitement  of  the  first  meeting  on  that  event 
ful  Sabbath.  Finding  himself  not  willing  to  wait 
for  this,  he  had  compromised.  If  Marjorie  should 
happen  not  to  be  at  home,  then  he  would  wait 
until  Sunday,  and  looking  at  her  with  grave 
reproachful  eyes  as  he  held  out  his  hand  to  her, 
would  say  :  "  May  I  walk  with  you  a  little  wajr, 
as  we  used  to  do,  in  the  old  times  ?  " 

But  all  these  plans  had  been  utterly  and  hope 
lessly  destroyed.  He  was  a  person  of  considera 
tion,  but  the  ones  for  whom  he  had  planned,  cared 
nothing  about  it.  He  met  them  in  the  aisle,  it  is 
true  ;  he  had  been  determined  that  he  would — and 
bestowed  upon  Mrs.  Edmonds  the  most  dignified 
of  bows,  keeping  its  counterpart  for  Marjorie  ; 
then,  at  just  the  right  moment,  when  it  would  be 
impossible  for  her  not  to  hear,  he  had  said  to  the 


296  MAKING  FATE. 

young  lady  in  front  of  her :  "  Estelle,  wait  for 
me  a  moment,  please.  I  must  speak  with  old  Mr. 
Crawford." 

He  had  put  an  air  of  quiet  command  into 
his  tone,  as  one  who  had  the  right  to  direct  her 
movements ;  and  Estelle's  expressive  face  had 
responded  delightfully  to  his  power.  Did  Mar- 
jorie  understand  ?  It  was  the  only  thing  he  could 
think  of,  to  show  her  that  he  was  not  crushed. 
Poor  Ralph  ! 

If  his  aim  had  been  to  astonish  Marjorie,  it  is 
almost  a  pity  that  he  could  not  have  known  how 
thoroughly  he  had  accomplished  it.  It  happened 
that  she  had  not  heard  of  his  intention,  until  his 
name  was  announced  in  the .  church.  One  who 
was  watching  her  might  have  noticed  that  as  she 
caught  the  name  the  blood  rolled  in  waves  over 
her  face,  and  then  as  quickly  receded,  leaving 
her  very  pale.  Indeed  her  surprise  amounted 
almost  to  dismay  ;  her  own  decision  in  regard  to  this 
matter  had  been  so  very  recent,  and  her  experience 
so  brief,  that  the  thought  of  recognition  by  the 
visible  church  had  not  even,  as  yet,  occurred  to 
her.  Almost  immediately,  however,  she  had 
thought  of  Ralph ;  had  recalled  what  Glyde  had 
said  about  her  influencing  him ;  and  had  wondered 
in  what  ways  she  could  bring  that  influence  to 
bear  upon  him  even  now,  so  that  he  might  be  won 
for  Christ.  All  those  first  days  of  her  Christian 
life  this  may  have  been  said  to  have  been  her 
study.  A  brave  and  loyal  study.  Every  thought 


PRINCIPLES  AND  PROFESSIONS.  297 

of  influence  which  she  had  planned  to  bring  to 
bear  upon  him,  she  had  resolved  must  come 
through  Estelle  Douglass.  She  must  reach  and 
influence  her.  Estelle  was  a  church  member,  and 
could  therefore  be  approached  on  the  subject  with 
some  hope,  at  least  that  she  would  be  interested. 
And  if  she  could  be  led  to  feel  as  Glyde  did,  for 
instance,  of  course  her  thought  and  prayer  would 
be  for  Ralph.  Such  was  Marjorie's  plan,  and  she 
had  prayed  long  about  it  that  morning.  A  pecul 
iar  prayer;  chiefly  a  cry  to  this  newly-found  power 
ful  Friend  of  hers,  to  take  from  her  heart  the 
feeling  of  aversion  for  Estelle  Douglass  which  had 
grown  upon  her  of  late,  and  help  her  to  love  her, 
and  be  intimate  with  her,  and  to  try  in  all  wise 
kind  ways  to  help  her  Christ-ward.  She  prayed 
that  she  might  want  to  do  this  for  her  sake,  and 
not  alone  for  Ralph  Bramlett's.  Coming  from 
such  a  prayer,  it  struck  her  strangety,  almost 
bewilderingly  that  this  young  man  for  whose  soul 
she  had  wrestled,  was  far  ahead  of  her;  was  actu 
ally  being  received  that  day  into  the  church,  and 
she  had  not  known  that  he  had  ever  given  this 
subject  a  serious  thought !  Strangely  enough  this 
seemed  to  remove  him  still  farther  from  her.  If 
he  had, during  their  estrangement,  passed  through 
the  experience  which  had  just  come  to  her,  with 
out  a  thought  of  her  in  it  all,  with  no  desire  to 
help  her,  then  indeed  he  must  have  gotten  very 
very  far  away  from  the  old  friendship.  Once 
more  she  asked  herself  the  sorrowful  question  why 


298  MAKING  FATE. 

he  could  not  in  it  all  have  acted  like  a  friend  ? 
She  thought  about  it  sorrowfully  during  the  walk 
home,  while  her  mother  and  Mr.  Maxwell  talked 
together.  How  strange  it  all  was !  Such  a 
little  time  ago  that  she  and  Ralph  had  gone,  that 
November  morning,  in  search  of  nuts,  and  pleas 
ure  ;  and  had  spent  one  of  their  gayest  and  happi 
est  days  together ;  then,  he  had  acted  so  strangely 
that  evening,  and  then — she  had  not  exchanged  a 
dozen  words  with  him  since,  and  the  gulf  was 
widening  every  hour  between  them  !  Could  she 
even  be  friends  with  Estelle,  and  try  to  help, 
through  her?  Perhaps,  for  some  reason  he  did 
not  want  even  this.  How  very  strangely  he  had 
acted !  Since  he  was  a  man  and  had  a  right  to 
speak,  why  had  he  not  come  to  her  frankly,  and 
told  her  the  story  of  his  discoveries,  and  asked 
her  to  rejoice  with  him  in  his  new  plans  and 
hopes  ?  She  thought  that  she  could  have  done  it. 
She  had  put  herself  so  entirely  into  the  back 
ground,  that  for  the  time-being  she  believed  her 
self  ready  to  rejoice  with  him  in  anything  that 
gave  him  joy.  How  unaccountable  it  was  that  it 
had  seemed  to  him  necessary  to  put  this  old  friend  of 
his  so  utterly  away  from  him  that  he  could  not 
even  clasp  hands  with  her  on  this  morning  of 
mornings !  She  had  it  in  her  heart  to  say : 
u  Ralph  I  am  so  glad  !  God  bless  you."  And  he 
had  given  her  no  chance. 

Arriving  at  home,  she  went  directly  to  her  room, 
and  closed  and  locked  her  door,  and  locked  the 


PRINCIPLES  AND  PROFESSIONS.  299 

communicating  door,  and  sat  down  on  a  low  chair 
by  the  window,  which  was  her  favorite  seat,  and 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands.  She  shed  no  tears  : 
she  was  rarely  given  to  tears.  Be  glad  for  her, 
that  after  a  few  minutes  of  intense  and  nerve- 
straining  silence,  she  slipped  from  her  chair  to  her 
knees.  She  believed  that  life  was  thorn-spread 
for  her  ;  but  she  had  found  a  Comforter. 

In  the  parlor  was  Mr.  Maxwell,  looking  for  a 
book,  and  preparing  to  pass  the  brief  interval  of 
time  which  intervened  between  the  church  service 
and  his  going  out  for  his  dinner.  Contrary  to  her 
usual  custom,  Mrs.  Edmonds  lingered  also.  She 
had  seen  the  look  on  her  daughter's  face  ;  she  knew 
that  she  must  be  left  alone  ;  that  even  the  sound 
of  some  one  moving  about  in  that  other  room 
would  be,  perhaps,  a  pain  to  her.  So  she  waited 
below,  moving  restlessly  from  one  point  to  an 
other;  taking  up  and  laying  down  first  a  book, 
then  a  paper.  Presently,  seeing  Mr.  Maxwell's 
inquiring  eyes  upon  her,  she  laughed  a  little  con 
sciously. 

"  I  am  really  developing  nerves  in  my  old  age  ! " 
she  said.  "  I  hardly  know  why  I  should  feel  so 
disturbed.  One  thing  I  am  afraid  of  ;  that  I  am 
growing  suspicious  and  cruel  in  my  judgments. 
I  have  no  good  reason  for  it,  but  I  cannot  believe 
in  the  sincerity  of  that  young  man  who  was 
received  into  the  church  to-day.  I  hope  I  may  be 
doing  him  injustice,  but  I  really  could  not  feel 


300  MAKING  FATE. 

as  though  there  was  anything  but  the  merest  form 
about  it  all." 

He  did  not  laugh,  in  response,  as  she  had  half- 
expected  that  he  would,  but,  instead,  dropped  the 
book  at  which  he  had  been  looking,  and  began 
a  slow  thoughtful  walk  up  and  down  the  room, 
his  face  grave,  almost  sad.  At  last  he  stopped 
before  her,  still  grave. 

"  Perhaps  we  are  both  growing  over-critical," 
lie  said.  "  I  must  frankly  confess  to  you  that, 
without  sufficient  cause,  it  may  be,  I  have  very 
much  the  same  feeling.  I  have  seen — a  little  of 
the  young  man,  lately,  and  I  must  own  that  the 
service  this  morning,  the  part  of  it  with  which  he 
was  connected,  gave  me  only  pain.  We  have  too 
many  church-members  now  whose  entire  moral 
standard  is  low.  Still,  of  course,  we  may  both  be 
mistaken ;  let  us  hope  and  pray  that  it  may 
prove  so." 


SENTIMENT ALItiM  AND  FANATICISM.       301 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

SENTIMENTALISM   AND   FANATICISM. 

As  Marjorie  had  expected,  very  early  in  the 
week  which  followed  that  eventful  Sabbath,  came 
Estelle  Douglass  with  her  confidences. 

"  O  Marjorie ! "  she  began,  as  soon  as  they  were 
left  alone  together,  "  I  have  something  to  tell 
you ;  a  secret  for  nobody  but  you,  as  yet ;  and  it 
is  about  something  so  wonderful  to  have  happened 
to  me  !  " 

Then  had  followed  in  detail  the  story  which 
Marjorie  had  been  sure  she  would  hear.  A 
story  so  glorified  by  being  drawn  through  the 
channel  of  Estelle's  heart,  that  Ralph  himself 
would  not  have  recognized  it.  The  commonplace 
words  which  had  been  spoken,  as  it  will  be  re 
membered  he  had  admitted  to  himself,  on  the  im 
pulse  of  the  moment,  had  sounded  to  Estelle's  eager 
ears  like  the  most  passionate  appeal ;  in  full  belief 
in  her  honesty,  she  was  so  translating  it  to  Marjorie. 

"  And  I*  was  so  astonished  ! "  she  said.  "  Oh,  you 
cannot  imagine  what  a  surprise  it  was  !  You  see, 
it  all  came  upon  me  so  suddenly,  Why,  I  have 
been  for  years  in  the  habit  of  supposing  that  you 


302  MAKING  FATE. 

and  Ralph  were — if  not  formally  engaged,  at 
least  so  sure  of  each  other  that  you  did  not  think 
of  anybody  else.  Though  Ralph  and  I  have 
always  been  good  friends,  you  know,  and  I  could 
not  help  noticing  that  of  late  he  has  taken  the 
trouble  to  seek  me  out  more  than  he  used  to.  I 
didn't  understand  it,  and  was  anxious  and  troubled. 
Actually,  Marjorie,  I  was  anxious  about  you,  some 
of  the  time  !  But  when  Ralph  explained  to  me 
that  that  was  all  the  merest  nonsense,  and  that 
you  and  he  had  never  been  anything  to  each  other 
but  real  good  friends,  nor  had  thought  of  any 
other  relation  in  your  lives,  why,  it  made  every 
thing  look  entirely  different.  Marjorie,  you  who 
know  him  so  well,  must  be  ready  to  congratulate 
me,  I  am  sure.  Isn't  it  strange  that  after  being 
brought  up  in  the  same  town,  as  we  have  been, 
going  to  school  together,  and  all  that  sort  of 
thing,  and  you  and  Ralph  being  so  exceedingly 
intimate  all  these  years,  that  all  of  a  sudden,  one 
may  say,  he  -decided  that  I  must  be  his  special 
friend  for  life !  Still,  that  is  not  so  surprising 
after  all,  when  one  thinks  of  it.  People  rarely 
marry  those  with  whom  they  were  intimate  in 
childhood  and  early  boyhood;  extremely  intimate, 
I  mean.  But  I  certainly  was  very  much  deceived, 
and  I  think  other  people  have  been.  Why,  Marjorie, 
almost  everybody  thought  you  were  e'ngaged  to 
Ralph  Bramlett.  If  you  had  cared,  dear,  I  never 
could  have  listened  to  him,  of  course.  I  don't 
know  what  I  should  have  done.  But  I  am  so 


SENTIMENTALISM  AND  FANATICISM.       303 

glad  to  know  that  it  has  all  turned  out  just  right 
in  every  way." 

She  was  very  sincere.  Her  heart  was  full  of 
love  and  desire  for  all  humankind.  She  had  not 
the  slightest  wish  to  hurt  Marjorie.  Why  should 
she  have  ?  She  was  sincerely  and  heartily  glad 
over  her  supposed  discovery  that  there  had  been 
always  an  understanding  of  friendship  between 
Ralph  and  her  school-girl  friend,  and  that  Marjorie 
was  at  least  on  the  verge  of  a  very  satisfactory 
settlement  of  her  own  future. 

She  was  a  girl  of  a  vivid  imagination  in  some 
directions,  and  had  been  given,  all  her  life,  to  the 
habit  of  doing  much  planning  ahead.  During  the 
short  time  since  there  had  been  what  she  called 
an  '•  understanding  "  between  Ralph  and  herself, 
she  had  indulged  in  her  favorite  habit.  One  query 
was,  whether  she  and  Marjorie  were  not  sufficiently 
intimate  friends  to  plan  their  marriages  for  the 
same  day.  The  ceremonies  could  be  performed  in 
the  church,  thus  giving  their  very  large  circle  of 
acquaintances  opportunity  to  be  present ;  it  would 
be  peculiarly  appropriate,  too,  she  thought,  since 
Ralph  and  Marjorie  were  such  old  and  very 
intimate  friends.  To  unite  their  forces  would 
give  each  the  opportunity  to  make  a  better  display 
than  either  could  do  alone.  Yes,  she  said 
"  display  "  in  connection  with  it.  She  would  not 
have  been  Estelle  Douglass  if  she  had  not.  "  One 
does  not  plan  to  be  married  but  once  in  a  life 
time,'  "  she  told  herself.  "  Why  shouldn't  one  have 


304  MAKING  FATE. 

everything  as  grand  as  possible  ?  Marjorie  and  I 
would  look  well  together ;  we  are  sufficiently  un 
like  to  offset  each  other's  appearance."  Of  course 
it  would  not  do  to  talk  about  it  yet ;  she  must 
wait  for  Marjorie's  confidence,  and  even  then,  she 
must  suggest  it  to  Ralph  before  talking  it  over 
with  Marjorie ;  because,  she  admitted  to  her 
secret  self,  he  was  inclined  to  have  a  mind  of  his 
own,  and  it  might  occur  to  him  to  dislike  the 
entire  plan.  She  must  wait.  Besides,  of  course 
she  could  not  speak  of  the  details  of  marriage 
until  Ralph  had  hinted  that  there  was  such  an 
event  in  expectation. 

With  these  thoughts  in  mind,  though  she  would 
not  for  the  world  have  allowed  them  to  appear  on 
the  surface,  Estelle  closed  her  confidence  by  asking 
what  she  meant  to  be  a  very  pointed  question. 

"  And  now,  Marjorie  dear,  I  have  chosen  you, 
you  see,  for  my  most  confidential  friend  ;  told  you 
every  little  particular,  almost;  and  I  haven't  told 
anybody  else,  outside  of  our  own  family.  Ralph 
says  he  lias  a  horror  of  people  gossiping  about  our 
affairs,  and  I  certainly  agree  with  him,  but  you  are 
different  from  other  people.  I  told  him  that  I 
would  like  to  tell  you  all  about  it,  and  he  agreed 
that  that  was  a  very  different  matter  from  talking 
to  people  in  general.  Why,  you  and  he  are  almost 
like  brother  and  sister,  aren't  you?  What  a  dis 
agreeable  sister  he  has,  by  the  way ;  I  never  could 
endure  Hannah  Bramlett.  But  what  I  was  going 
to  ask  you,  dear,  was,  Haven't  you  a  story  to  tell 


SENTIMENTALISM  AND  FANATICISM.       305 

me  ?  -  We  ought  to  be  very  intimate  friends  now, 
you  and  I.  I  am  sure  you  must  have  something 
nice  to  tell  me  in  return." 

"  Yes,"  said  Marjorie,  a  grave  sweetness  in  tone 
and  manner,  "I  have.  I  thought  when  I  saw  you 
coming  to-day  that  I  would  like  to  tell  you  my 
story ;  and  I  have  a  special  desire  to  do  so,  after 
hearing  yours.  Sometiiing  very  wonderful  has 
come  to  me,  Estelle.  After  living  in  indifference 
toward  Him  all  these  years,  I  have  suddenly 
learned  the  value  of  a  Friend  who  has  been  calling 
after  me,  asking  my  trust  and  my  allegiance. 
He  has  been  very  patient  with  neglect  and  al 
most  insult  on  my  part,  and  has  waited  for  me. 
At  last  I  have  listened  to  His  call  and  given  my 
self  to  Him.  I  belong  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
Estelle,  forever." 

Said  Estelle,  "  Dear  me  !  Do  you  mean  that  you 
have  made  up  your  mind  to  join  the  church? 
What  a  queer  way  you  have  of  telling  it !  You  don't 
do  anything  like  anybody  else,  Marjorie,  do  you?" 
The  slow  color  mounted  in  Marjorie's  face.  Was 
there  any  use  in  coming  to  Estelle  Douglass,  with 
confidences  like  these?  Still  she  tried. 

"  As  I  said,  Estelle,  I  have  a  special  desire  to 
talk  with  you  about  this  now.  I  realize  how  much 
more  you  and  Ralph  can  Tbe  to  each  other  because 
you  both  belong  to  Christ.  How  very,  very  glad  you 
must  have  been  to  have  seen  him  take  the  stand 
which  he  did  last  Sunday." 

Estelle  regarded  her  with  curious,  wondering 
20 


306  MAKING  FATE. 

eyes ;  this  was  so  unlike  the  story  which  she  had 
expected  to  hear. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  after  a  moment,  "  of  course,  I 
was  glad.  It  was  very  nice  of  him  to  join  the 
church.  How  splendid  he  looked,  didn't  he?  I 
heard  ever  so  many  speak  of  it.  I  have  always 
thought  him  fine-looking,  but  I  never  saw  him  look 
so  well  as  he  did  last  Sunday.  That  is  the  most 
becoming  suit  of  clothes  he  ever  had,  and  I  think 
it  was  nice  in  him  to  wear  it  then  for  the  first  time  ; 
it  showed  such  respect  for  the  service,  you  know. 
Oh,  I  was  delighted,  you  may  be  sure  ;  but  awfully 
surprised. 

"  I  didn't  know  a  thing  about  it  until  I  heard 
his  name  announced  from  the  pulpit !  Glyde  came 
home  from  somewhere,  the  night  before,  with  a 
story  to  the  effect  that  he  was  going  to  be  received, 
the  next  day ;  but  I  laughed  at  it ;  I  said  people 
were  always  talking  about  Ralph,  and  that  that  was 
the  last  idea  they  had  gotten  up.  I  thought  of 
course  he  would  have  mentioned  it,  or  that  I 
should  have  heard  of  it  in  some  way,  if  there  had 
been  any  foundation  for  the  report.  Wasn't  it 
queer  in  him  to  keep  it  so  private,  even  from  me  ? 
Did  you  know  anything  about  it,  beforehand, 
Marjorie  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Marjorie,  glad  for  Estelle's  sake  that 
she  could  answered  promptly  in  the  negative  ;  but 
dismayed  to  think  that  these  two  were  beginning 
their  life  together  in  this  way.  How  extraordi 
nary  that  Ralph  should  not  want  to  talk  it  all  over 


SENTIMENTALISM  AND  FANATICISM.       307 

with  the  one  whom  he  had  chosen;  explaining  to 
her  the  wonderful  revelation  which  he  must  have 
have  had,  and  the  solemn  conclusions  which  he  must 
have  reached  about  many  things  !  It  was  not  like 
Ralph  to  be  so  reticent.  "  I  tell  you  everything," 
he  had  said  to  her,  not  six  months  before.  "•  A  plan 
is  only  half  formed  in  my  mind  before  I  have  to 
rush  off  to  you  with  the  story  of  it."  She  had  re 
joiced  in  his  confidences  ;  she  was  not,  like  Estelle, 
given  to  making  or  receiving  them  ;  she  had  felt 
that  she  was  Ralph's  only  confidential  friend ;  but 
now  that  he  had  changed  everything,  of  course 
that  entire  oneness  of  feeling,  which  had  seemed 
to  be  between  him  and  herself,  ought  to  be  a  mark 
of  this  new  relation  which  he  had  formed.  Actually 
she  began  to  be  anxious  for  them  !  No,  not  for  them, 
for  him.  She  wanted  him  to  begin  entirely  right 
and  to  be  entirely  happy.  Her  love  for  him  had 
by  no  means  turned  to  bitterness ;  she  must  name 
it  "  friendship "  hereafter,  but  it  was  honest, 
earnest  friendship.  Every  good  gift  that  earth  had 
to  bestow,  she  claimed  for  him  ;  she  believed  in 
him  as  thoroughly  as  ever  girl  believed  in  man. 
He  had  done  wrong,  she  felt,  in  not  trusting  her, 
in  riot  being  sure  that  she  would  be  his  friend  and 
helper  though  she  was  to  be  nothing  more  ;  but 
that  was  because  she  had  not  shown  him  plainly 
enough  her  better  nature,  so  that  he  could  dare  to 
trust  it ;  if  she  had  seemed  selfish  and  exacting 
to  him  he  could  not  help  that.  She  wanted  all 
womanly  graces  for  Estelle,  because  she  was  his 


308  MAKING  FATE. 

promised  wife.  She  wanted  to  love  her,  help  her  ; 
she  yearned  over  her  almost  as  a  mother  might 
over  a  child  ;  suddenly  Estelle,  who  was  two  years 
older  than- herself,  seemed  young  and  ignorant  of 
the  world  compared  with  herself. 

"Perhaps  he  wanted  to  give  you  a  beautiful 
surprise,"  she  said,  speaking  part  of  her  thought 
aloud.  "  Estelle,  I  am  glad  for  you  that  Ralph  has 
settled  the  question  of  all  questions.  You  will  be 
able  to  help  each  other  in  a  truer  sense  than  you 
could  have  done  without  this ;  and  to  help  other 
people :  there  is  so  much  to  be  done  in  the  world. 
It  seems  strange  that  I  never  realized  it  before.  I 
don't  think  Ralph  will  be  a  half-hearted  Christian. 
I  look  for  him  to  be  a  power  in  the  church ;  for 
both  of  you  have  great  influence." — She  added 
this  last  part  of  the  sentence  hastily.  "  What 
good  times  you  and  he  can  have,  reading  and 
studying  the  Bible  together,  and  praying,  and 
planning  your  work  for  Christ  together." 

There  was  an  exalted  light  in  her  eyes  as  she 
spoke,  and  no  tremble  of  her  lips  ;  she  had  not  for 
nothing  spent  half  the  night  praying  over  this 
entire  matter. 

"  Estelle,"  she  added  earnestly,  "  begin  right ; 
don't  make  the  mistake  of  putting  Ralph  first; 
that  is  natural  for  us  women  ;  we  have  to  watch  it; 
put  Christ  first,  and  live  a  strong  life  for  Him.  It 
is  in  that  way  that  you  can  best  help  your  husband. 
My  religion  means  so  much  to  me.  I  have  known 
this  powerful  Friend  of  mine  but  a  few  days,  and 


XEXTUIENTALISM  AND  FANATICISM.       309 

yet  it  seems  as  though  He  had  accomplished  great 
things  for  me  already.  Excuse  me  if  I  seem  to  be 
giving  advice ;  I  am  inclined  to  forget  that  other 
people  know  Him  much  better  than  I  do." 

Estelle  laughed  a  little  in  a  half-embarrassed 
way.  "  You  are  an  enthusiast,"  she  said.  "  You 
remind  me  of  Glyde;  she  has  gotten  some  new 
and  queer  ideas  since  she  went  to  New  York.  By 
the  way,  the  child  had  a  talk  with  Ralph,  don't 
you  think  !  The  idea  !  and  I  had  never  dared  to 
open  my  lips  to  him  on  the  subject.  I  must  ask 
him  now  just  what  she  said.  It  was  before  we 
were  engaged.  Why,  Marjorie,  of  course  we  will 
live  as  Christian  people  ought  to,  when  we  live 
together ;  that  is  a  time  away  in  the  distance  I 
presume  ;  we  have  not  begun  to  plan  for  it.  But 
I  do  not  think  that  I  was  ever  intended — to  be — 
well,  to  get  into  a  fever  of  enthusiasm  about 
matters  of  this  kind.  I'm  a  plain,  practical  person  ; 
I  believe  in  doing  church-work,  of  course,  and  in 
being  identified  with  all  its  interests,  in  a  reason 
able  way.  If  I  had  any  money  to  give,  I  should 
like  to  give  it  through  the  church ;  I  always 
thought  that  would  be  great  fun.  Ralph  will  have 
to  do  that  part ;  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  would 
be  a  rich  man  one  of  these  days,  Marjorie.  De 
spite  his  anxiety  to  study  law,  he  is  developing 
into  quite  a  business  man.  Father  heard  that 
young  Mr.  Snyder  say  that  he  was  the  best  book 
keeper  they  ever  had;  and  that  they  meant  to 


310  MAK1XG  FATE. 

hold  on  to  him  and  make  it  worth  his  while  to 
stay  with  them." 

"  Nothing  could  make  it  worth  his  while,"  said 
Marjorie,  with  a  sudden  flash  of  indignation  which 
was  more  like  her  old  self  than  anything  Estelle 
had  seen  that  morning.  "  I  do  not  believe  he  will 
remain  there  ;  I  do  not  see  how  any  motives  which 
have  to  do  with  money-making,  or  mere  business 
advantages  can  have  weight  with  him  now.  He 
owes  it  to  his  position  as  a  Christian,  to  throw  his 
entire  influence  on  the  side  of  right,  and  while  he 
is  engaged  in  helping  to  manage  such  a  business 
as  the  Snyders'  he  cannot  do  this." 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Estelle  rather  coldly,  "people 
have  different  ways  of  looking  at  these  things. 
I  never  saw  anything  very  wrong  about  his  be 
ing  bookkeeper  in  an  establishment ;  he  has 
nothing  whatever  to  do  with  the  business ;  if  he 
were  offered  a  partnership,  that  might  be  another 
matter;  but  as  it  is,  that  is  being  sentimental, 
Marjorie  ;  Ralph  isn't  sentimental.  I  wonder  you 
and  he  got  along  together  so  long  as  you  did,  for 
you  are  very  much  so.  I  think  Ralph  has  a 
splendid  streak  of  real  good  common-sense,  and 
that  he  showed  it  when  he  refused  to  stay  around 
home  and  wait  for  an  opportunity  to  his  mind,  but 
went  right  to  work  in  the  first  place  that  opened 
for  him.  He  has  done  some  very  nice  things  for 
his  mother  since  he  began  to  get  a  regular  salary. 
I  don't  know  how  they  would  have  gotten  along, 
now  that  she  is  sick,  without  his  help.  There  are 


SENTIMENTALISM  AND  FANATICISM.       311 

worse  things  in  the  world  than  a  fifteen-hundretl- 
dollar  salary,  and  I  should  think  none  the  worse 
of  Ralph  for  looking  twice  at  it  before  he  decided 
to  give  it  up  for  a  mere  sentiment.  Still,  there  is 
no  use  in  our  discussing  it.  Ralph  has  a  mind  of 
his  own,  and  will  do  as  he  likes.  You  made  that 
discovery  some  time  ago,  didn't  you  ?  " 

On  the  whole,  the  talk  closed  most  unsatisfac 
torily.  Estelle  went  home  feeling  annoyed  over 
what  she  chose  to  consider  a  criticism  of  Ralph  ; 
all  the  more  sensitive,  be  it  confessed,  because  her 
father  had  expressed  himself  frankly  as  disapprov 
ing  of  a  distillery-clerk  for  a  son-in-law.  As  for 
Marjorie,  there  was  a  sinking  feeling  at  her  heart 
that  Estelle  was  not  calculated,  in  the  truest  sense 
of  the  word,  to  be  a  help  to  Ralph  Bramlett. 
There  was  also  a  dreary  fear  that  she  would  not 
be  able  to  help  either  of  them,  in  the  ways  in 
which  she  had  tried  to  plan. 

In  point  of  fact,  she  had  little  opportunity  to  try 
to  help  them.  The  intimacy  which  both  girls  had 
sincerely  intended  to  cultivate,  did  not  make  prog 
ress.  Marjorie  took  an  early  opportunity  to  re 
turn  Estelle's  call,  and  was  quite  as  friendly  but 
social  as  she  knew  how  to  be,  but  already  there 
had  come  to  Estelle  a  mysterious  change.  She 
said  nothing  about  their  being  confidential  friends, 
or  of  Marjorie  being  like  a  sister  to  Ralph.  She 
talked  much  about  that  young  man,  it  is  true, 
speaking  of  him  always  with  a  certain  air  of  appro 
priation  which  would  have  been  amusing,  if  Mar- 


312  MAKING  FATE. 

jorie  had  felt  like  being  amused,  but  at  the  same 
time  with  a  certain  reticence  as  regarded  his 
affairs,  which  was  as  new  as  it  was  mysterious. 
Neither  would  she  allow  herself  to  be  approached 
in  the  slightest  degree  upon  the  religious  side  of 
her  nature. 

"  You  were  not  at  prayer-meeting  last  evening  ?  " 
began  Marjorie,  by  way  of  trying  to  introduce  the 
thoughts  which  were  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

"  No.  Ralph  had  a  headache  and  was  nearly 
tired  to  death.  I  told  him  J  did  not  think  it  was 
his  duty  to  attend  the  prayer-meeting,  while  he 
was  kept  at  business  as  late  as  he  was  last  night. 
There  is  something  besides  prayer-meetings  to  be 
thought  of  in  this  world.  I  just  squarely  coaxed 
him  to  stay  with  me,  instead  ;  "  she  said  this  with 
a  little  defiant  toss  of  her  head,  as  though  she  ex 
pected  Marjorie  to  disagree  with  her,  and  would 
rather  enjoy  having  her  do  so, — "he  spoke  of 
prayer-meeting,  and  said  perhaps  we  ought  to  go: 
and  I  said  perhaps  we  ought  not  to  do  any  such 
thing,  that  I  had  been  a  member  of  the  church  a 
good  deal  longer  than  he  had,  and  ought  to  be  the 
better  judge.  I  don't  believe  you  can  make  either 
of  us  into  fanatics,  Marjorie," — with  a  little  un 
musical  laugh.  "  I  told  Ralph  something  of  what 
you  said  the  other  day  ;  what  do  you  suppose  was 
his  reply  ?  He  said  you  were  the  sort  of  material 
of  which  they  used  to  make  martyrs  in  the  times 
when  martyrs  were  fashionable.  But  he  and  I 
are  not ;  we  are  real  flesh-and-blood  beings.  Glyde, 


SENTIMENTALISM  AND  FANATICISM.       313 

now,  is  developing  into  a  regular  fanatic  ;  she 
will  be  a  disciple  after  your  own  heart.  Last 
night  there  was  a  little  gathering  at  the  Gardners, 
new  people,  you  know,  and  very  choice.  Harmon 
Gardner  seems  really  to  have  taken  quite  a  fancy 
to  Glyde.  She  was  invited  last  night ;  only  a 
dozen  or  twenty  young  people  were  honored,  even 
Fanny  and  I  were  not  invited,  no  one  but  Glyde  ; 
and  Harmon  Gardner  wanted  to  call  for  her  and 
take  her  there.  Do  you  believe  the  child  would 
not  go?  Simply  because  it  was  prayer-meeting 
night!  Mother  told  her  she  thought  she  might 
be  excused  under  such  special  circumstances  ;  she 
hasn't  been  going  out  much,  you  know,  and  this 
was  a  choice  opportunity.  Even  Ralph  tried 
to  influence  her :  he  told  her  she  was  standing  in 
her  own  light ;  and  that  she  must  allow  her  judg 
ment  to  come  in  to  help  settle  some  matters.  It 
was  all  of  no  sort  of  use.  She  was  just  as  firm  as 
any  little  martyr  you  ever  heard  of.  Not  a  step 
would  she  go,  and  she  told  Harmon  Gardner  the 
reason.  He  called  early  in  the  evening  to  see 
if  he  might  come  for  her  at  the  proper  time,  and 
she  got  it  off  to  him  just  as  though  it  was  an  ex 
cuse  that  he  could  appreciate  !  It  was  the  regular 
prayer-meeting  evening  in  her  church,  and  she 
had  resolved  not  to  let  anything  but  necessity 
interfere  with  her  going. 

'"I  am  very  sorry,'  I  heard  him  say  in  a  disap 
pointed  tone,  '  I  wish  this  were  a  necessity ' :  he 
acted  as  though  he  did  not  care  whether  the  other 


314  MAKING  FATE. 

guests  came  or  not.  I  was  provoked  with  Glyde. 
Ralph  says  Harmon  Gardner  is  a  very  superior 
young  man ;  but  that  is  what  happens  to  people 
when  they  get  fanatical,  Marjorie,  they  take  leave 
of  their  common -sense.  I  shall  have  to  confess 
that  I'm  glad  Ralph  isn't  of  that  sort.  By  the  way, 
that  reminds  me  of  his  sister.  You  wouldn't  have 
picked  her  out  for  a  religious  fanatic,  would  you  ? 
Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  she  looks  as  though 
she  had  been  a  martyr  all  her  days,  but  she  has 
taken  up  a  new  i61e  very  lately.  Nobody  knows 
what  has  started  her ;  she  wants  to  go  out  to  the 
Mission  on  Sunday  afternoons ;  wants  Ralph  to 
drive  her  there,  and  wait  while  she  picks  up  some 
body  to  teach.  The  idea !  the  only  day  of  rest  that 
he  has.  He  told  her  it  was  out  of  the  question 
for  him  to  spend  his  Sabbath  time  in  that  way, 
and  that  if  she  got  there,  she  must  walk.  She  was 
quite  wrought  up  about  it,  he  says.  She  has 
gotten  an  idea  that  she  ought  to  be  doing  some 
body  some  good.  Suppose  you  go  and  call  upon 
her,  Marjorie  ?  Perliaps  you  will  find  her  just  to 
your  mind." 


OPPORTUNITIES.  315 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

OPPORTUNITIES. 

THE  last  sentence  had  closed  with  the  most 
disagreeable  form  of  Estelle's  disagreeable  little 
laugh,  and  Marjorie  had  gone  away  a  few  minutes 
thereafter,  wondering  sorrowfully  what  could  have 
come  between  them  since  their  last  talk  together. 
Estelle  had  been  indifferent  enough  then,  but  not 
almost  bitter. 

Could  it  be  that  she  had  an  unfortunate  way  of 
talking  about  religious  matters,  which  awakened 
the  prejudices  of  others  ?  And  were  Ralph  and 
Estelle  between  them  going  to  make  little  Glyde's 
life  a  trial,  instead  of  a  joy  to  herself  and  a  blessing 
to  others  ? 

She  was  right  in  her  impression  of  a  barrier 
having  been  set  up  between  Estelle  and  herself, 
since  their  last  meeting.  Many  of  her  words  on 
that  occasion  had  been  reported  to  Ralph ;  not 
carefully,  for  Estelle  was  not  by  nature  a  careful 
reporter.  As  has  been  said  before,  she  gaye  often 
her  impression  of  facts,  instead  of  the  facts  them 
selves. 

Therefore  the  unpleasant  impression  she  had 
received  from  Marjorie's  criticism  of  Ralph's 
business,  was  duly  reported  in  such  a  way  that 


316  MAKING  FATE. 

they  made  Ralph's  dark  face  flush,  and  his  eyes 
look  fierce.  For  instance,  this  :  "  Don't  you  be 
lieve,  Ralph,  she  says  you  cannot  be  a  Christian, 
because  you  are  a  clerk  in  a  distillery !  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  such  absurd  nonsense  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  he  had  said  haughtily.  "  What  am 
I  then  ?  A  hypocrite  ?  "  After  hearing  all  that 
Estelle  had  to  tell,  he  had  said  with  almost  an  air 
of  authority,  "  I  think,  my  dear,  that  the  less  you 
have  to  do  in  the  future  with  that  young  woman 
the  better  it  will  be  for  you  and  for  all  concerned. 
She  is  evidently  not  the  Marjorie  we  used  to  know 
intimately ;  constant  fellowship  with  a  fanatic  and 
a  prig  are  making  their  impress  upon  her.  She 
has  chosen  her  own  ways  and  must  be  allowed  to 
go  in  them ;  it  will  be  just  as  agreeable,  perhaps, 
if  our  ways  do  not  lie  in  the  same  direction." 

And  then  Estelle,  who  had  fancied  that  he  would 
like  it  if  she  would  be  very  intimate  with  Marjorie, 
immediately  changed  her  intention,  somewhat 
relieved  thereat;  admitting,  not  only  to  herself  but 
to  him,  that  Marjorie  was  not  quite  to  her  mind. 
She  liked  her,  of  course,  as  did  all  the  girls,  but 
then  she  had  always  been  "  queer,"  and  was  queerer 
now,  since  she  had  taken  up  these  peculiar  ideas 
with  regard  to  religion. 

"  She  has  become  simply  an  echo  of  Mr.  Max 
well,"  she  added  laughing.  "  It  is  undoubtedly  his 
influence  which  has  so  changed  her ;  he  is,  as  you 
say,  a  fanatic ;  I  have  not  exchanged  a  dozen 
sentences  with  him,  but  I  can  see  that.  I  wonder 


OPPORTUNITIES.  317 

if  your  influence  will  be  as  forceful  over  me  as  his 
is  over  her  ?  At  least  I  am  glad  that  you  are  not 
fanatically  inclined.  Well,  I  shall  have  as  little 
to  do  with  her  as  politeness  will  permit." 

So  it  came  to  pass  that,  after  this  exchange  of 
calls,  there  were  days,  even  weeks  together,  when 
the  two  did  not  meet.  Marjorie  had  by  no  means 
cast  off  either  Estelle  or  Ralph  ;  she  had  prayed  and 
was  praying  for  them  too  earnestly  to  do  this ;  she 
thought  about  them  a  great  deal ;  always  coupling 
their  names  in  her  thoughts,  with  a  resolute  deter 
mination  which  would  have  been  pitiful  to  one 
who  could  understand  the  human  heart ;  loyalty 
in  thought  as  well  as  in  action  was  a  necessity 
to  a  nature  like  hers. 

She  watched  for  the  two,  each  week,  in  the 
prayer-meeting ;  but  they  did  not  come.  Part  of 
the  time  it  was  head-ache  and  disinclination  ;  but 
often,  so  far  as  Ralph  was  concerned,  it  was  genuine 
detention  at  his  place  of  business.  As  the  weeks 
went  by,  and  he  succeeded  "in  proving  himself  a 
success  in  his  work,  more  and  more  heavy  respon 
sibility  was  laid  upon  him,  and  more  entirely  was 
he  trusted;  this  was  all  very  pleasant  from  one 
point  of  view,  but  it  made  his  work  hard,  and  his 
evenings  sometimes  short  and  full  of  anxiety. 

Meantime,  Marjorie  received,  one  day,  an  unex 
pected  call  from  Hannah  Bramlett.  She  had  never 
been  intimate  with  this  young  woman,  chiefly  per 
haps  because  of  the  disparity  in  their  ages  ;  and 
while  she  had  not  shared  the  manifest  dislike  of 


318  MAKING  FATE. 

Estelle  Douglass  she  yet  confessed  to  herself  that 
she  did  not  feel  drawn  to  the  girl  in  any  way. 
Intimate  as  she  had  been  with  Ralph  during  these 
many  years,  she  and  his  sister  had  not  exchanged  a 
dozen  calls  in  their  lives,  and  of  late  had  had 
hardly  even  a  speaking  acquaintance.  It  was 
therefore  with  surprise,  and  a  little  nervous  query 
as  to  why  she  had  come  and  what  they  should 
talk  about,  that  Marjorie  went  down  to  receive 
her. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  to  come  and  see  you  for  a 
week  or  two,"  began  Hannah  abruptly,  as  soon  as  the 
ordinary  civilities  had  been  exchanged.  "  I  wanted 
to  have  a  talk  with  you.  I  heard  you  had  been 
converted  ;  is  it  so  ?  Why,  I  know  it  must  be  so ; 
you  go  to  prayer-meetimg  every  week  now,  they 
say,  and  have  taken  a  class  in  Sunday-school.  I 
want  to  teach  in  the  Sunday-school,  but  there  is* 
no  one  to  go  with  me  anywhere ;  I  wish  there 
were ;  or  else  that  women  did  not  have  to  be 
hedged  in  by  all  sorts  of  rules.  Well,  that's  not 
what  I  came  for.  What  I  wanted  to  talk  with  you 
about  was — doing  things.  The  church  Sunday- 
school  comes  at  a  time  when  I  can't  leave  home  ; 
mother  isn't  well ;  she  doesn't  get  her  strength 
back ;  she  was  a  good  deal  sicker  than  they 
thought  that  time  when  I  was  away ;  I  have  to 
look  after  things  a  good  deal  that  she  used  to  see 
to  herself;  so  I'm  needed  just  at  Sunday-school 
time.  Now  what  is  there  that  I  can  do  ?  Perhaps 
you  will  wonder  why  I  don't  ask  my  own  brother, 


OPPORTUNITY.  319 

since  I've  come  to  a  beginner,  and  he  is  one  ;  but 
the  truth  is  he  hasn't  your  kind  of  beginning  ; 
his  is  Estelle  Douglass's  kind,  and  that's  a  pity,  I 
think.  He  is  in  earnest ;  at  least  I  hope  he  is  ; 
but  he  is  young  and  busy,  and  easily  influenced  ; 
and  Estelle  Douglass  isn't  the  sort  of  girl  to 
influence  a  young  man  like  that  in  the  right 
way.  It  is  a  pity  to  have  to  say  so  ;  I  oughtn't 
to  do  it,  perhaps,  since  they  are  engaged  to  each 
other  ;  but  I'm  not  saying  it  out  on  the  street ; 
you  know  them  both.  I  used  to  think,  Marjorie, 
that  you  were  to  be  my  sister ;  and  I  always 
liked  the  notion.  Excuse  me  for  speaking  of 
it,"  she  added  deprecatingly,  as  she  saw  the  red 
on  Marjorie's  cheeks  deepen  and  spread,  "  I  don't 
mean  to  be  rude  ;  they  have  always  called  me 
blunt,  and  I  suppose  I  am.  I  never  succeed  in 
saying  the  right  things  somehow  What  I  mean 
is,  that  you  seem  different  from  other  girls  ;  you 
always  have  been,  for  that  matter,  and  I  thought 
you  would  be  a  different  kind  of  a  Christian  from 
others.  I  have  never  been  satisfied  with  my  re 
ligion.  It  is  genuine,  I  think,  what  I've  got  of 
it;  but  you  can't  keep  a  thing  like  that  corked  up 
all  the  while,  and  do  nothing  for  anybody  else, 
and  have  it  amount  to  much.  Oh,  I  know  there 
is  work  at  home  ;  that  is  what  Dr.  Ford  tells  me  : 
but  it  is  work  that  I  can't  do  ;  except  housework 
and  things  of  that  kind.  I  can  do  plenty  of  thnt. 
and  do  do  it;  I'm  not  planning  to  shirk  it;  but  I 
want  a  little  bit  of  the  other  kind ;  just  enough  to 


320  MAKING  FATE. 

keep  me  alive.  Mother  is  a  Christian  woman  if 
ever  there  was  one,  and  she  doesn't  need  any 
doing  for,  in  that  line  ;  and  father, — well,  there 
isn't  a  living  thing  I  can  do  for  him,  except  to 
make  him  as  comfortable  as  I  know  how,  and  look 
after  his  clothes,  and  all  that.  Father  is  bound 
up  in  Ralph,  and  Ralph  can  influence  him,  but  I 
can't ;  he  doesn't  even  think  I'm  grown  up  yet, 
though  I  am  going  on  to  twenty-seven  years.  He 
just  thinks  of  me  as  a  little  girl  who  ought  to  stay 
at  home  and  mind  her  mother,  and  be  good.  And 
mother  thinks  that  1  am  hard  on  Ralph  because  I 
see  his  faults,  and  speak  of  them  once  in  awhile, 
when  I  love  every  hair  of  his  head  better  than  I 
do  my  whole  body !  I'd  die  for  him,  any  time. 
But  there !  that's  nothing  to  do  with  what  I 
want  to  talk  about.  The  point  is,  Marjorie,  isn't 
there  a  living  thing  for  me  to  do  in  the  world 
for  somebody  ?  I  get  so  downright  sick  of  myself 
sometimes,  that  it  doesn't  seem  as  though  I  could 
endure  myself  any  longer.  I  thought  when  Ralph 
joined  the  church,  perhaps  it  would  be  different : 
perhaps  he  would  go  to  work  at  something  some 
where,  and  I  could  get  in.  I  thought  about  his 
coming  home  early  on  prayer-meeting  nights  and 
me  having  his  supper  ready,  and  he  driving  back 
to  town  and  taking  me  along ;  but  he  doesn't  do 
anything  of  the  kind.  Half  the  time  he  can't 
help  it ;  he  has  to  stay  at  that  old  distillery  so  late 
that  he  loses  all  the  early  trains  ;  and  a  good  deal  of 
the  time  he  doesn't  come  home  at  all,  until  eleven  or 


OPPORTUNITY.  321 

twelve  o'clock ;  he  stops  at  Douglasses',  and  has 
his  supper  there,  and  lounges  in  their  back  parlor, 
and  is  petted  by  Estelle  ;  that  is  natural,  too,  of 
course ;  I  have  no  business  to  find  fault  with  it ; 
but  it  isn't  the  way  I  planned.  Nothing  ever  was, 
or  ever  will  be,  I  presume.  But  I  just  thought 
that  I  would  come  and  have  a  talk  with  you,  and 
ask  if  you  knew  anything  in  life  that  a  body 
like  me  could  do.  Isn't  there  a  poor  girl,  or  a 
poor  boy  somewhere,  who  hasn't  any  friends,  whom 
even  I  could  help?" 

Marjorie  regarded  her  caller  with  the  deepest 
interest  and  sympathy ;  this  was  different  from 
any  Hannah  Bramlett  that  she  had  known.  Her 
talked  sounded  like  the  cry  of  a  hungry  soul. 
Would  it  be  possible,  for  one  who  felt  the  need 
of  being  herself  set  to  work,  to  help  this  other 
one  ? 

"  There  are  people  enough  who  need  your  help," 
she  said  at  last,  "  if  we  only  knew  where  to  find 
them  ;  with  so  much  to  be  done  in  the  world  it  is 
an  infinite  pity  that  one  who  is  willing  to  work 
should  not  find  the  people,  and  the  opportunity. 
The  people  who  need  helping  are  more  easily 
found  than  the  opportunity.  I  have  been  think 
ing  all  the  morning  of  one  who  is  in  sore  need ; 
but  how  to  reach  him  in  any  way,  I  haven't  the 
least  idea. 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Jack  Taylor?  I  have  become  painfully  interested 

in  him  quite  lately.     It  is  only  a  short  time  since 
21 


322  MAKING  FATE. 

he  buried  his  wife.  While  she  lay  dead  in  the 
house,  he  reeled  home  intoxicated,  not  knowing 
what  had  happened.  It  was  a  terrible  shock  to 
him,  sobered  him  at  once  ;  he  has  been  in  a 
wretched  condition  ever  since.  It  seems  that  the 
poor  fellow  loved  her,  in  spite  of  his  treatment  of 
her ;  and  now  that  it  can  do  her  no  good  he  is 
trying  to  reform  ;  but  it  is  going  to  be  very  hard 
work.  He  is  utterly  discouraged ;  he  feels  that 
he  has  disgraced  himself  in  the  eyes  of  all  who 
know  him,  and  that  he  has  no  friends." 

"  I  know  a  Jack  Taylor,  by  sight,"  said  Hannah, 
"  but  he  cannot  be  the  one  you  are  talking  about ; 
this  one  is  a  mere  boy.  I  noticed  him  a  few  days 
ago  passing  our  house  and  asked  father  who  he 
was  ;  he  said  he  was  a  worthless  fellow  whose 
name  was  Jack  Taylor ;  he  had  secured  work  at 
the  Simmons'  place,  that  is  half  a  mile  or  so  beyond 
us  ;  but  he  supposed  he  wouldn't  keep  it  long, 
because  he  didn't  stay  sober  twenty-four  hours  at 
a  time  ;  the  character  fits  the  one  you  know,  but 
this  fellow  cannot  be  more  than  nineteen." 

"  It  is  the  same  one,"  said  Marjorie.  "  He  looks 
like  a  boy,  and  is  a  boy  in  fact :  not  twenty-two 
yet,  though  he  has  been  married  nearly  two  years. 
We  heard  that  he  had  gotten  work  at  the  Sim 
mons'  place  ;  I  do  hope  he  can  keep  it.  If  he  did 
not  have  to  pass  a  dozen  saloons  on  his  way  out 
there,  I  should  have  more  hope  of  him.  He  goes 
back  and  forth,  you  say  ?  I  wonder  if  it  would  not 
be  possible  for  them  to  let  him  sleep  there  nights, 


OPPORTUNITY.  323 

so  that  he  would  not  be  subject  to  so  much 
temptation  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hannah.  "  I  wonder  if 
it  can  be  possible  that  that  poor  fellow  is  a 
widower !  It  is  a  pity  to  have  so  young  a  life 
wasted.  I  couldn't  help  noticing  him  as  he  passed, 
he  looked  so  utterly  discouraged;  as  though  he 
had  lost  all  hope  in  the  world.  I  might  set  a  trap 
for  him  at  our  house,  perhaps,  and  have  him  stop 
in,  and  get  a  little  acquainted." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Marjorie  earnestly. 
"Perhaps  that  is  your  opportunity.  Somebody 
will  have  to  help  him,  andtfiat  very  soon,  if  he  is 
to  be  saved.  Wouldn't  it  be  a  glorious  thing  if  you 
could  lead  him  to  the  only  One  who  can  save 
him?" 

She  was  touched  to  see  how  Hannah's  face 
brightened  ;  the  woman  was  actually  longing  to  be 
of  use  in  the  world. 

"  I  might  try  it,"  she  said,  rising  to  go,  and 
speaking  with  half-suppressed  eagerness,  as  though 
she  could  hardly  wait  for  the  opportunity,  "  I 
never  have  helped  anybody,  so  far  as  I  know, 
and  I  don't  suppose  I  know  how,  but  he  looks 
miserable  enough  for  me  to  make  the  trial ;  I 
couldn't  make  matters  worse  than  they  are  now, 
at  least." 

She  went  away  with  a  brisk  step,  and  Marjorie 
prayed  for  Jack  Taylor  that  night  with  more  faith 
than  she  had  been  able  to  exercise  before. 

During  the  weeks  which  followed,  life  settled 


324  MAKING  FATE. 

with  Marjorie  into  a  sort  of  routine ;  not  by  any 
means,  however,  a  stagnation.  She  set  herself 
resolutely  at  work  to  be  systematic  and  faithful 
in  all  that  she  undertook.  She  planned  her  days 
with  utmost  care ;  she  began  to  give  regular  at 
tention  to  her  music  once  more  ;  and  took  up  a 
neglected  study  of  German,  with  Mr.  Maxwell  for 
a  tutor.  In  one  way  or  another  she  and  her 
mother  continued  to  see  much  of  Mr.  Maxwell ; 
nothing  could  be  more  natural  or  unpremeditated 
on  their  part  than  this,  since  he  was  a  lodger  in 
their  own  house,  and  spent  much  of  his  time  at 
home.  • 

The  evening  readings  continued,  and  broadened 
in  their  scope ;  not  popular  books  alone — so-called 
— but  real  mental  studies  came  in  for  their  share 
of  attention  ;  books  which  Mr.  Maxwell  was  reading 
in  line  with  his  work,  and  which  he  insisted  were 
much  better  appreciated  when  he  had  an  audience. 
Then,  a  very  earnestly-put  question  from  Marjorie 
when  she  met  him  in  the  hall  one  morning,  con 
cerning  the  best  ways  of  reading  and  studying  the 
Bible,  led  him  to  ask,  soon  afterwards,  if  she  and 
her  mother  would  be  willing  to  join  him  in  a  sys 
tematic  course  of  Bible  study,  which  he  had 
laid  out  for  himself.  He  had  planned  to  give  one 
hour  of  each  evening  to  it,  to  accomplish  as  much  as 
he  could  in  that  time,  and  then  turn  resolutely  away 
from  it.  He  added  with  a  smile,  that  he  had  dis 
covered  the  study  of  the  Bible  to  be  the  most  fas 
cinating  of  all  pursuits,  and  that,  unless  he  hedged 


OPPORTUNITY  325 

himself  in  with  hours  and  minutes,  he  was  very 
much  given  to  neglecting  other  work  for  this 
favorite  study. 

Nothing  that  he  had  heretofore  proposed 
had  given  Marjorie  so  much  satisfaction.  She 
felt  more  or  less  able  to  pursue  other  studies 
by  herself ;  but  had  been  astonished  and  humili 
ated  to  discover  what  a  very  child  she  was  in 
her  knowledge  of  the  Bible.  A  multitude  of 
verses  she  knew,  and  great  was  the  help  and  com 
fort  which  she  derived  from  them.  But  any  con 
secutive  knowledge  of  the  Book  as  a  book,  or  as  a 
compilation  of  many  authors,  or  as  a  history  reach 
ing  over  a  long  period  of  time,  she  found  she  had 
not.  It  came  to  pass,  therefore,  that  every  other 
wise  disengaged  evening  was  systematically  ap 
propriated  in  this  way,  and  the  back  parlor  of  the 
Edmonds's  home  became  to  all  intents  and  pur 
poses  a  school-room. 

The  Bible  study  came  first ;  they  gave  it  the 
best  of  their  evening,  from  seven  until  eight 
o'clock ;  and  they  grew  so  interested  in  their 
work,  both  mother  and  daughter,  that  very  often 
Mr.  Maxwell's  inexorable  closing  of  the  books  as 
the  mantel  clock  tolled  eight  was  met  by  reproach 
ful  looks  from  them  both.  From  eight  to  nine 
they  took  up  the  historical  study  which  Mr.  Max 
well  was  pursuing  in  a  line  with  his  writing. 
Very  delightful  study  it  was  to  Marjorie,  and,  ap 
parently,  quite  as  satisfactory  to  her  mother.  Bat 
the  daughter  often  had  qualms  of  conscience, 


326  MAKING  FATE. 

when  alone,  over  the  thought  that  their  teacher 
must  surely  be  wasting  very  valuable  tirns  upon 
them.  It  was  eminently  courteous  in  him  to  call 
it  "  study  "  for  himself,  but  nothing  was  more  ap 
parent  than  that  he  was  already  thoroughly  con 
versant  with  his  theme.  No  question  that  she 
could  ask,  found  him  unprepared ;  and  he  wel 
comed  questions  so  eagerly  and  was  so  thorough 
in  his  replies,  and  led  them  so  constantly  into 
other  lines  of  thought,  that  while  they  made  com 
paratively  little  progress  with  the  text  book, 
Marjorie  realized  that  she  was  gaining  a  very 
great  deal  out  of  the  hour.  Once  or  twice  she 
hinted  her  fears,  but  he  met  them  graciously  ;  as 
suring  her  that  he  was  getting  out  of  those  even 
ings,  much  more  than  he  could  explain  to  her,  and 
that  to  review  some  of  his  former  work  in  this  di 
rection  was  exactly  the  help  which  he  needed  for 
his  book ;  of  course,  after  that  there  was  nothing 
more  to  be  said. 

From  nine  until  ten  they  "  recreated  "  as  Mr. 
Maxwell  called  it.  Always  there  was  some 
standard  popular  book  to  be  taken  up ;  and  with 
these  three  to  take  up  a  book  meant  not  a  hurried 
reading,  getting  over  the  ground  for  the  sake 
merely  of  the  plot,  after  the  manner  of  superficial 
novel  readers.  They  read  for  the  sake  of  the 
ideas  arid  the  language,  even  more  than  for  the 
plot ;  nay,  they  read  more  for  the  moral  lessons, 
or  for  the  moral  power  evolved  from  the  char 
acters  they  studied,  than  they  did  for  either  of 


OPPORTUNITY.  327 

these  other  reasons ;  the  consequence  was  that 
they  stopped  and  studied  over  what  they  read, 
comparing  views,  and  considering  theories  of  their 
own  which  the  book  suggested  ;  so  that,  as  Mr. 
Maxwell  said  gaily,  one  evening,  "  We  are  mak 
ing  books,  as  well  as  reading  them.  Occasionally 
I  have  the  egotism  to  think  that  if  we  should 
write  out  our  conversations  carefully,  we  might 
chance  to  make  a  book  which  the  world  would 
like  to  read,  and  be  the  better  for  the  reading, 
which  is  much  more  important.  It  would  be  very 
easy  to  write  a  book  which  the  world  would  like 
to  read,  if  one  did  not  care  how  one  influenced 
that  world." 

The  German  lessons  came,  on  what  Mr.  Max 
well  announced  was  a  leisure  hour  of  his  after 
noons.  On  the  whole,  what  with  the  work  in  the 
missionary  society  she  had  joined,  and  looking 
after  the  seven  girls  in  her  Sunday-school  class, 
Marjorie's  time  was  quite  fully  employed.  Of 
course,  though  they  two  lived  alone  and  quite 
simply,  there  were  more  or  less  duties  in  the 
housekeeping  line  which  fell  to  Marjorie.  This 
had  always  been  the  case ;  and  so  far  was  she 
from  disliking  such  work  that  she  had  rather 
prided  herself  upon  her  skill  in  that  direction. 
The  taste  grew  upon  her  rather  than  decreased, 
and  she  planned  and  executed  many  a  dainty  dish 
for  Mr.  Maxwell  to  carry  to  some  of  his  numerous 
friends.  Especially  did  the  old  Professor  and  his 
wife  have  reason  to  rejoice  in  her  constantly  de- 


328  MAKING  FATE. 

veloping  fondness  for  culinary  matters.  Not  a 
week  passed  without  some  choice  concoction  of 
hers  finding  its  way  to  their  little  round  table,  at 
which  Mr.  Maxwell  confessed  that  he  often  made 
a  third.  The  old  gentleman  used  to  be  his 
favorite  teacher  away  back  in  his  early  boyhood, 
and  his  love  for.  and  faith  in  him  had  increased 
with  his  increasing  years.  He  admitted  that  he 
found  a  conversation  with  him  now,  a  better 
stimulus  than  almost  anything  else  within  his 
reach.  So  Marjorie  planned  liberally  for  three, 
and  often  packed  with  her  own  careful  hands,  the 
basket  which  was  to  furnish  the  entire  supper  for 
the  trio. 

Of  course  she  was  not  without  her  hours  for 
recreation  ;  they  began  to  take  long  walks  to 
gether,  as  the  spring  opened — she  and  her  mother. 
And  more  and  more  frequently  as  the  days  grew 
sunnier,  and  the  roads  dryer,  did  Selim  appear  at 
the  gate,  attached  to  a  low,  wide-seated  carriage, 
while  his  owner  explained  that  he  had  an  errand 
on  the  foundry  road,  or  the  river  road,  or  in  the 
direction  of  the  park,  and  was  very  tired  of  driving 
alone  ;  would  not  Mrs.  Edmonds  and  Miss  Edmonds 
keep  him  company?  It  \vasalways  Mrs.  Edmonds 
whom  he  asked  first,  and  she  always  went.  They 
were  really  constantly  together,  mother  and 
daughter,  during  those  days  ;  their  companionship 
seeming  more  like  that  of  an  elder  and  younger 
sister.  If  Mrs.  Edmonds  sometimes  sacrificed  lier 
own  tastes  and  inclinations  and  gave  herself  to 


OPPORTUNITY.  329 

walks,  and  drives,  when  she  would  rather  have 
stayed  quietly  at  home,  she  made  no  sign,  but 
lived  in  the  joy  of  her  daughter's  systematic,  cheer 
ful  energy.  For  Marjorie  was  cheerful  from 
morning  till  night.  It  is  true  her  face  was  more 
often  grave  than  otherwise,  and  her  mother  missed 
something  of  the  merry  playfulness  which  used  to 
sparkle  out  on  the  slightest  provocation,  but  there 
was  no  lack  of  cheer.  It  was  a  sweet  strong 
gravity,  with  not  a  trace  of  sullenness  in  it ;  and 
she  made  her  life  so  busy  and  so  regular  that  there 
was  little  time  for  brooding.  She  had  been 
resolute  about  many  things,  and  made  her  own 
little  sacrifices,  too,  of  which  she  said  nothing. 
That  communicating  door  was  opened  early  now, 
each  night;  she  wrote  no  words  at  all  in  her  diary, 
and  she  would  not  let  herself  think  connectedly 
about  any  of  that  part  of  her  past  which  she  felt 
did  not  now  belong  to  her.  Was  she  then  for 
getting  Ralph  Bramlett  ?  You  who  understand 
young  true  hearts  smile  over  the  question  ;  they 
do  not  so  easily  forget.  She  made  no  attempt  to 
deceive  herself,  but  owned  that  she  had  loved 
Ralph  Bramlett ;  but  she  remembered  that  he  had 
of  his  o\vn  choice  given  her  up  and  chosen  another. 
It  would  not  only  be  a  weakness  but  a  sin  for  her  to 
dally  now,  and  sentimentalize  over  the  broken  past. 
If  she  meant  to  be  true  to  herself,  to  her  mother, 
and  above  all  to  God.  she  must  put  away  that 
which  was  not  for  her.  and  live  for  what  God  had 
given  her.  With  the  utmost  of  her  strong  young 


330  MAKING  FATE. 

will  she  was  doing  this.  She  believed  that  love, 
and  marriage,  and  all  that  was  involved  in  those 
two  sacred  words,  had  been  taken  out  of  her  life, 
but  she  must  not  therefore  waste  it. 


ROBBIE.  331 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

HOBBLE. 

IT  is  almost  a  pity  that  at  this  stage  of  her 
career  Marjorie  Edmonds  could  not  have  gone  up 
and  down  the  world  as  an  apostle  of  common- 
sense.  She  fully  realized  that  she  had  given  her 
young  true  heart  into  the  keeping  of  another,  and 
that  that  other  had  been  what  she  called  "  mistaken 
in  himself,"  and  deserted  her.  She  had  so  managed 
the  whole  matter  in  her  thoughts  that  in  some 
way  she  had  succeeded  in  exonerating  him  from 
all  blame.  People  could  not  love  to  order,  she 
told  herself;  if  he  had  found  that  Estelle  was  the 
one  for  his  life-friend,  and  she  was  not,  no  other 
course  had  been  open  to  him  save  the  one  he  had 
taken  ;  except,  perhaps,  that  had  he  understood  her 
better  he  could  have  done  it  in  a  better  way.  But 
the  point  to  be  noted  is,  that  she  did  not,  because 
of  this  experience,  conclude  that  she  had  a  broken 
heart,  and  must  henceforth  make  herself  and  all 
about  her  miserable.  She  did  not  even  intend  to 
be  unhappy.  There  is  a  sense  in  which  she  would 
not  allow  herself  to  be ;  if  the  holy  and  blessed 
experiences  of  love  and  marriage  were  not  for 
her,  there  was  yet  a  beautiful,  helpful  life  be- 


332  MAKING  FATE. 

fitting  a  daughter  of  the  King,  for  her  to  live. 
She  meant  to  live  it.  She  assured  herself  that 
only  sin  coul^  make  people  utterly  miserable ; 
and  then  she  instantly  corrected  even  that  view 
and  said:  "I  mean  only  unforgiven  sin."  And 
in  that,  she  had  gotten  above  the  sickly  senti 
mentality  which  talks  about  "  wasted  affections  " 
and  "  blighted  hopes,"  as  if  there  were  nothing 
else  in  life  but  these,  and  that  because  of  a  bitter 
experience  one  must  go  about  thereafter  a  ruined 
soul  ;  we  have  a  right  to  be  proud  of  her,  and  to 
hold  her  up  as  a  model,  not  only  for  people  of 
common-sense,  but  pre-eminently  for  people  who 
call  themselves  Christians,  to  follow.  Is  it  not 
time  for  us  to  remember  that  upon  those  who 
belong  to  the  family  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  are 
called  to  be  joint  heirs  with  Him,  no  real  blight 
can  fall  ? 

At  the  same  time,  it  is  not  denied  that  the  ex 
perience  through  which  Marjorie  had  passed  had 
left  its  mark.  Among  other  ways  in  which  it 
showed,  was  that  one  connected  with  social  life. 
She  ceased  to  be  the  center  of  a  certain  circle,  as 
she  had  undoubtedly  been  for  a  year  or  two.  She 
went  very  little  into  society  and  almost  entirely 
avoided  places  at  which  her  mother  was  not  ex 
pected.  Yet,  after  all,  perhaps  this  last  was  not  so 
different  from  what  the  world  had  been  accustomed 
to  in  her.  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  often  gone  to 
gatherings  for  Marjorie's  sake  from  which  she 
would  much  rather  have  been  excused,  and  both 


BOBBIE.  333 

Ralph  and  Marjorie  had  often,  in  the  past,  been 
grumbled  at  for  declining  invitations,  with  no 
better  reason  on  the  girl's  part,  than  that  she  did 
not  like  to  leave  mother  so  much  alone  ;  Ralph 
reserving  to  himself  the  right  to  decline  all  in 
vitations  that  he  chose,  without  any  excuse  what 
ever. 

It  was  the  dull  season  of  the  year,  however,  in 
the  society  in  which  they  had  heretofore  moved ; 
the  time  when  the  real  victims  of  society  life 
were  trying  to  rally  from  the  dissipations  of  the 
winter,  and  get  themselves  refreshed  in  strength 
and  wardrobe  for  the  summer's  campaign.  There 
was  therefore  not  so  much  necessity  for  breaking 
in  upon  their  choice  home-evenings.  It  perhaps 
cannot  be  denied  that  there  was  a  disposition  on 
Marjorie's  part  to  avoid  any  place  of  entertain 
ment  where  she  had  reason  to  suppose  that  Ralph 
and  Estelle  would  be.  She  had  considered  the 
question  with  deliberation,  and  determined  that  it 
was  not  at  present  her  duty  to  make  the  sacrifice 
which  this  would  demand.  Had  her  intimacy 
with  Estelle,  which  she  had  planned,  developed, 
and  the  relations  of  honest,  earnest  friendship 
which  she  intended,  been  evolved,  she  would 
have  managed  this  matter  of  society  differently. 
But  as  it  was,  it  had  not  only  become  painful  to 
her,  but  was  evidently  disagreeable  to  Estelle  to 
have  any  sort  of  conversation  with  her ;  and  in  the 
few  times  which  they  had  met,  the  interviews  were 
so  far  from  being  either  helpful  or  agreeable,  that 


334  MAKING  FATE. 

Marjorie  felt  justified  in  deciding  that  the  less 
they  should  see  of  each  other  for  the  present,  the 
better  it  would  be. 

"  Estelle  dislikes  me,"  she  told  herself  gravely, 
"  quite  as  much  as  I  was  at  one  time  in  danger  of 
disliking  her.  It  is  not  dislike  that  I  feel  now, 
at  least  I  do  not  think  it  is,  but  I  do  not  enjoy  her 
society,  and  so  long  as  I  do  her  no  good,  but  rather 
harm,  apparently,  every  time  I  meet  her,  why 
should  we  make  martyrs  of  ourselves  ?  " 

So  she  planned  a  little  ;  it  required  very  little 
planning.  Spring  had  brought  complications  in 
Ralph's  business  which  held  him  to  long  hours 
and  perplexing  mental  work.  At  the  various 
church-gatherings  in  which  Marjorie  and  her 
mother  interested  themselves  to  an  unusual  degree, 
neither  Estelle  nor  Ralph  appeared. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  had  not  found  time  to 
attend  even  one  of  those  mid-week  prayer-meetings, 
for  which  Ralph  had  magnanimously  arranged, 
when  he  decided  to  unite  with  the  church.  So 
that  at  places  where  she  had  expected  to  meet 
them  as  a  matter  of  course,  Marjorie  suffered  no 
such  embarrassment.  In  the  early  spring,  the 
Gardners,  with  whom  Estelle  was  becoming  inti 
mate,  gave  a  large  party,  and  invited  Marjorie  and 
her  mother ;  but  it  chanced  that  Mrs.  Edmonds 
was,  at  the  time,  suffering  from  a  slight  cold,  and 
felt  it  unwise  to  expose  herself  to  the  evening  air, 
so  that  the  invitation,  with  this  for  an  excuse,  was 
promptly  declined. 


But  if  Marjorie's  intimacy  with  Estelle  had 
come  to  naught,  her  friendship  with  Glyde  pro 
gressed  rapidly.  It  was  a  sort  of  one-sided  inter 
course  which  they  had  ;  Marjorie  went  very  rarely 
indeed  to  the  Douglass  home,  but  Glyde  came 
constantly  to  see  her.  The  young  girl  seemed  in 
stinctively  to  understand  why  this  state  of  things 
should  be,  and  made  no  complaint  nor  comment 
because  her  almost  daily  visits  were  not  returned. 
There  were  always  reasons  for  her  coming ; 
She  was  by  no  means  an  idler  in  the  church. 
There  was  a  discouraged  mission-band  which  was 
dragging  out  a  spiritless  existence.  Glyde  heard 
of  it  almost  by  accident,  so  quiet  did  the  young 
ladies  keep  even  their  organization. 

She  had  invited  herself  to  become  a  member,  and 
had  taken  hold  of  the  matter  with  an  energy  that 
foreshadowed  success.  The  girls,  astonished  and 
at  first  almost  appalled  over  the  new  life  which 
had  been  infused  into  their  midst,  began  to  rouse 
themselves  and  take  hold  of  some  plans  with 
energy;  and  Glyde  was  continually  coming  to 
Mrs.  Edmonds  and  Marjorie  for  suggestions.  Nor 
liad  she  by  any  means  either  forgotten  or  relin 
quished  her  desire  to  work  among  the  poor 
friendless  little  children  who  were  without "  aprons 
and  pretty  things."  There  could  be  nothing  sys 
tematic  in  this  direction  while  she  was  so  young. 
Tier  mother,  not  always  careful  what  her  older 
daughters  did,  shielded  this  youngest  one  with  a 
very  tender  care,  and  shrank  back  with  horror  from 


336  MAKING  FATE. 

the  thought  of  her  taking  up  any  work  which 
looked  like  district-visiting.  Yet,  little  by  little, 
without  that  name  attached,  or  without  formality 
of  any  kind,  Glyde  had  almost  a  district  on  her  roll. 

There  was  a  girl  in  Mrs.  Watson's  class  who  had 
a  sick  sister  at  home,  lying  day  after  day  on  a 
dreary  little  bed;  and  nothing  bright  or  cheery 
ever  came  to  her,  so  far  as  Glyde  could  learn,  save 
what  Mrs.  Watson,  who  was  poor,  and  crowded 
with  home  cares,  could  accomplish  out  of  her  busy 
life.  Such  joy  and  brightness  as  gathered  around 
that  little  bed,  after  Glyde  made  its  acquaintance, 
one  might  fill  a  volume  in  describing. 

There  was  a  boy  of  whom  she  heard  by  accident, 
living  on  an  entirely  safe  and  respectable  street, 
where  she  felt  sure  her  mother  would  be  willing 
to  have  her  visit.  The  boy  was  a  cripple.  He 
Avas  helped  into  his  chair  in  the  morning  and  helped 
out  of  it  at  night,  when  his  mother  came  home. 
All  day  long  he  lived  his  lonely  little  life  ;  his 
only  company  being  such  picture-papers  as  his 
mother  could  occasionally  pick  up,  through  her 
friends  in  the  mill.  Glyde's  fingers  fairly  trembled 
with  joy  when  she  wrote  his  name  on  her  list ;  she 
knew  of  so  many  bright  things  that  she  could  put 
into  his  life.  Mrs.  Edmonds  accompanied  her 
upon  her  first  visit,  to  satisfy  the  girl's  mother  that 
no  reasonable  excuse  could  be  offered  for  prohibit 
ing  her,  and  after  that  Glyde  went  twice  a  week 
with  her  packages  of  books,  papers,  writing 
materials,  crayons,  water-colors,  and  what  not. 


ROBBIE.  337 

Such  joy  came  with  her  into  that  poor  little  home 
where  love  had  been  struggling  all  alone,  as  the 
mother  had  believed  was  not  possible  for  her  boy 
until  he  found  it  through  the  gateway  of  the  grave. 
Oh  there  were  lovely  things  that  Glyde  could  do, 
though  she  was  still  young  and  fair,  and  must  be 
shielded  from  the  coarse,  and  the  low,  and  the 
brutal  as  much  as  possible.  She  had  two  or  three 
girl-acquaintances  now,  of  the  kind  which  she  had 
met  in  New  York.  Pale-faced,  hard-working  girls 
in  cotton  gloves,  or  very  much  mended  kid  ones, 
or  quite  often,  no  gloves  at  all.  They  held 
aloof  from  her  for  a  time  ;  even  tossed  their  heads 
when  she  tried  to  bow,  looked  the  other  way 
when  she  wanted  to  speak  to  them.  In  short 
they  passed  through  the  various  periods  of  in 
solence,  superciliousness,  cold  reserve,  and  wonder 
ing,  doubtful  half-concessions,  and  finally  became, 
not  only  her  devoted  admirers,  but  friends ;  girls 
who  would  have  been  willing  to  die  for  her,  if 
need  be.  She  told  Marjorie  a  great  deal  about 
them ;  and  that  young  woman  and  her  mother 
added  to  their  other  duties  and  cares,  plans  for 
helping  "  Glyde's  girls."  All  things  considered  it 
was  by  no  means  a  dull  or  long  spring  to  the  little 
circle  which  understood  one  another  and  worked 
together. 

The  month  of  April  had  retired  into  the  back 
ground,  and  May  was  bringing  the  breath  of  early 
flowers  and  the  hint  of  summer  in  her  sunshiny 
train,  \vhen,  one  afternoon,  Glyde  Douglass  tripped 


338  MAKING  FATE. 

up  the  steps  of, the  Edmonds'  home  and  pulled  the 
bell  in  a  little  more  eager  and  impatient  manner 
than  usual.  She  was  in  such  extreme  haste  to  get 
inside  with  her  bit  of  news  that  if  the  door  had 
not  been  locked  she  would  have  waited  for  no 
ceremony.  However,  she  had  to  wait;  and  there 
came  presently  a  little  frown  of  disappointment  on 
her  bright  face  ;  the  bell  was  not  answered ;  nobody 
was  at  home.  How  very  provoking,  when  she  had 
wanted  to  see  them  on  such  special  and  important 
business.  Where  could  the}*-  all  be  so  early  in  the 
afternoon  ?  They  must  have  gone  for  a  long  drive  ; 
it  was  too  early  for  their  usual  walk.  Well,  there 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  wait.  She  must  call 
upon  Robbie  first,  then  ;  and  keep  from  telling 
him  the  beautiful  piece  of  news  if  she  could. 
Though  she  felt  very  much  as  though  she  must 
tell  somebody. 

Still  feeling  in  the  hurry  of  excitement,  though 
the  special  need  for  haste  was  over,  she  made  all 
speed  for  the  corner,  signaled  a  passing  car  and 
rode  out  to  the  quiet  dull  part  of  the  town,  where 
the  houses  were  poor,  and  small,  and  respectable. 
Leaving  the  car  at  the  corner  she  walked  down  a 
street  which  was  still  narrower,  and  where  there 
was  still  smaller  and  poorer  respectability,  stopping 
at  last  before  a  tiny  cottage  with  one  front  window. 
This  was  her  crippled  boy's  home.  He  was  sitting 
by  the  window,  and  the  air  was  so  mild  that  it  was 
open  a  little  way.  He  clapped  his  small  blue- 
veined  hands  at  sight  of  his  caller. 


ROBBIE.  339 

"  Goody  !  "  he  said  gleefully,  "  I  was  afraid  you 
couldn't  come." 

He  was  nearly  fourteen  years  old  ;  but  his  four 
years  of  helplessness  and  frailness  had  made  him 
look  and  appear  much  younger. 

"  I've  been  watching  for  you  this  hour ;  I've  got 
something  nice  to  tell  you,"  he  added,  as  Glyde  let 
herself  in,  and  came  to  his  side. 

"  So  have  I,"  thought  Glyde,  "  only  I  must  not 
tell  you,  not  yet ;  it  would  be  even  harder  for  you 
to  wait,  than  it  is  for  me. 

"  Have  you  ?  "  she  said  aloud,  placing  a  lovely 
white  lilac  in  his  hand  as  she  spoke.  "  I  like  nice 
things.  I  wonder  what  it  is?  Can  I  guess?  You 
have  found  another  word  in  your  puzzle ;  one  that 
you  and  I  couldn't  make  out." 

"  No  ;  "  he  said,  laughing  gleefully.  "  It  isn't 
that." 

"  Then  you  have  made,  with  your  paints,  just 
the  right  shade  for  that  queer  flower  which  we 
were  trying  to  copy  ;  and  that  I  was  to  ask  Miss 
Edmonds  about,  the  next  time  I  saw  her." 

"  Oh,  did  you  ask  her  ?  "  said  Robbie.  "  Because 
I  haven't  found  it,  Miss  Glyde ;  I've  tried  every 
every  paint  in  my  box,  arid  it  doesn't  make  it." 

"  Good  !  "  she  said.  "  Yes,  I  asked  her ;  and  I 
have  the  right  box  of  paints  in  my  bag  this  minute, 
with  the  one  marked  that  will  make  exactly  the 
shade  we  are  after.  So  Miss  Edmonds  says,  and 
she  knows.  They  are  lovely  colors,  Robbie,  we 
can  make  ever  so  many  pretty  things  with  them 


340  MAKING  FATE. 

that  we  couldn't  with  your  others.  I  suspect  they 
cost  a  good  deal  more  than  the  others  did  ;  Mr. 
Maxwell  sent  them  to  you." 

"  Oh  goody,  goody  ! "  said  Robbie,  his  small 
hands  clasped  in  ecstasy,  "  I'm  just  asglad!  Now 
I  can  finish  coloring  that  card  for  mother's  birth 
day,  can't  I  ?  To  think  of  my  being  able  to  make 
a  presen  t  for  mother !  Isn't  everybody  good  to 
me?  But  you  haven't  guessed  my  news,  Miss 
Glyde." 

She  was  bending  over  him  pinning  a  spray  of 
bloom  to  his  buttonhole,  and  smiling  at  fiis  eager, 
upturned  face.  What  a  lovely  boy  Robbie  was  ! 
and  how  bright  and  glad  he  was  over  the  little  bits 
of  brightness  which  she  could  put  into  his  life.  It 
seemed  very  strange  to  her  that  he  should  have 
been  forgotten  and  neglected  so  long. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  guess, 
after  all.  When  I  was  a  school-girl  they  used 
always  to  have  to  tell  me  the  answers  to  conun 
drums,  and  things  of  that  kind  that  others  puzzled 
over.  I  like  to  puzzle  other  people,  but  I  was 
never  good  at  guessing  things  for  myself.  What 
is  it,  Robbie,  tell  me  about  it." 

As  she  spoke,  she  drew  the  little  rocker  which 
Mr.  Maxwell  had  sent  for  the  mother  to  rest  in 
when  her  long  day's  work  was  done,  and  placed  it 
in  just  the  position  that  Robbie  liked,  so  he  could 
look  at  her. 

"  Why,"  said  Robbie,  "  I've  got  another  friend ; 
a  splendid  young  man  !  he  came  to  see  me  yester- 


POBBIE.  341 

day  and  the  day  before,  and  he  is  coming  again  to- 
day." 

Nothing  more  delightful  than  the  boy's  pure 
eager  face  and  great  brown  eyes  can  be  imagined 
as  he  told  off  this  wonderful  bit  of  news. 

"  Oh,"  said  Glyde  in  gleeful  sympathy,  "  what 
a  splendid  thing  !  I  never  could  have  guessed  so 
grand  a  secret  as  that." 

She  thought  at  once  of  Mr.  Maxwell ;  he  had 
promised  to  come  during  some  leisure  hour  and 
call  upon  Robbie,  but  up  to  this  time  having 
many  protege's  of  his  own  and  feeling  that 
the  boy  was  in  good  hands,  he  had  not,  so  far 
as  Glyde  had  known,  redeemed  the  promise ; 
although  Robbie  felt  well  acquainted  with  him, 
and  had  received  flowers,  and  fruits,  as  well  as 
books  by  his  kindness,  Glyde  being  the  medium 
through  which  they  were  bestowed.  Of  course 
Robbie's  new  friend  must  be  Mr.  Maxwell.  He 
must  have  chosen  not  to  tell  his  name,  since 
Robbie  did  not  mention  it.  If  this  were  the  case 
of  course  she  must  not  betray  his  secret,  so  she 
asked  no  questions  in  that  line. 

"  Yes,"  said  Robbie,  "  it  is  a  great  thing.  The 
way  he  came  to  get  acquainted  with  me,  Miss 
Glyde,  I  was  sitting  here  by  the  window,  and 
mother  said  I  might  have  it  open  just  a  little  bit 
to  get  a  smell  of  spring ;  she  fixed  it  so  I  could 
push  it  down  if  the  wind  began  to  blow.  That  is, 
I  mean  she  thought  she  did  ;  but  she  wedged  the 
block  in  a  little  bit  too  much,  or  got  it  a  little  too 


342  MAKING  FATE. 

far  from  me.  All  of  a  sudden  the  wind  began  to 
blow  real  hard,  and  I  tried  to  shut  the  window;  I 
worked  and  worked,  and  I  couldn't  seem  to  get 
strength  enough  in  my  hand  to  push  that  block 
out.  And  just  as  I  said  aloud  :  '  Oh  dear  me  !  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  !  mother  won't  like  to  have 
the  wind  blow  on  me  ; '  that  man  came  along, 
and  don't  you  think  he  heard  what  I  said  ! 
'  What's  up,  my  boy  ? '  he  asked  me,  and  then  I 
told  him  about  the  window,  and  my  not  being  able 
to  move,  you  know,  and  all  that ;  I  told  it  real 
quick,  because  the  wind  was  blowing,  and  before 
I  got  it  quite  told,  he  sprang  up  the  steps  and 
opened  the  door.  '  Walk  in,'  he  said,  just  as  if  I 
had  told  him  to,"  and  Robbie  stopped  to  laugh. 
"  And  then  he  rushed  over  to  this  window  and 
with  one  touch  of  his  little  finger  he  got  the  block 
out  of  the  way  and  the  window  shut.  Then  he 
sat  down  in  that  chair,  right  where  3*011  are  sitting, 
and  said  he,  '  Now  I  guess  we  are  acquainted, 
aren't  we,  young  man?  and  can  have  a  visit.' 
Wasn't  he  splendid  ?  And  we  had  oh,  such  a 
nice  visit !  He  asked  me  if  he  could  come  again ; 
and  he  said  he  had  a  pocket  about  him  somewhere 
he  guessed,  that  would  hold  something;  the  next 
time,  he  would  see  what  he  could  do  with  it.  And 
the  next  time  he  came,  that  was  yesterday,  he  had 
an  orange  in  one  pocket,  and  a  great  big  apple 
in  another;  and  the  loveliest  card  in  a  little 
pocket ;  here  it  is,  Miss  Glyde.  See !  it  has  a 
picture  of  Christ  on  it,  healing  people.  If  Christ 


ROBBIE.  343 

were  walking  along  the  streets  to-day  as  He  was 
then  and  I  should  call  out  to  Him,  He  would  stop 
and  heal  me,  right  away ;  wouldn't  he,  Miss 
Glyde?" 

Glyde  could  scarcely  keep  the  tears  from  her 
voice  as  she  answered. 

"  He  is  in  the  world  now,  Robbie,  just  the  same, 
you  know ;  He  would  heal  you  now  if  it  were 
the  best  thing  for  you ;  perhaps  He  will  some 
day." 

Robbie  shook  his  head.  "  No,  the  doctors  told 
mother  that  I  couldn't  ever  be  well.  But  then, 
maybe  they  didn't  know  this  Doctor,"  a  sudden 
light  of  interest  shining  in  his  eyes.  "  There  wasn't 
any  '  couldn't '  to  Him,  was  there,  Miss  Glyde  ?  " 

"  Only  the  '  couldn't '  which  was  made  by  its 
not  being  best  for  people  ;  "  said  Glyde,  with  con 
fidence.  "  He  knows  everything,  remember  ; 
perhaps  he  knows  that  it  is  best  for  you  not  to  be 
well,  here.  There  might  be  a '  best '  that  we  didn't 
understand  at  all." 

"  Yes,"  said  Robbie  gravely,  "  that's  so ;  if  I 
could  walk,  I  might  grow  up  and  be  a  bad  man. 
There  is  a  woman  works  at  the  mill,  near  mother ; 
she  had  a  little  boy  once  who  was  hurt  just  in  the 
same  way  that  I  was  ;  only  it  wasn't  his  back.  He 
was  sick  a  long  time  ;  and  he  got  well.  But  now 
he  drinks,  and  gets  drunk,  and  knocks  her  when 
he  comes  home  at  night.  Knocks  his  mother, 
Miss  Glyde  ;  just  think  of  it !  I'd  rather  have  to 
sit  here  a  hundred  years  and  never  take  a  step, 


344  MAKING  FATE. 

than  to  get  to  be  such  a  man  that  I'd  knock 
my  mother.  Miss  Glyde,"  with  a  sudden  eager 
change  of  voice,  "  there  comes  my  new  friend  ! 
I  see  him  hurrying  along  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street;  he  always  walks  fast;  he  has  so  many  nice 
things  to  do  for  people  that  he  has  to  save  his 
time,  I  guess.  Would  you  mind  brushing  my  hair 
back  just  a  little,  so  it  would  look  nice,  with  the 
flower,  you  know  ?  " 

Glyde  laughed,  and  brought  the  white-handled 
brush  that  Mrs.  Edmonds  had  sent  him,  and 
brushed  back  the  thick  brown  curls  from  the  pale 
wide  forehead,  and  readjusted  the  cushions  at  his 
back ;  just  in  time.  There  came  a  business-like 
knock  at  the  door.  "  Come  in,"  said  Robbie's 
eager  voice,  and  Glyde  stood  waiting  with  smiling 
eyes.  What  fun  it  would  be  to  meet  Mr.  Max 
well  there,  and  show  off  her  boy  about  whom  she 
had  talked  so  much.  Still,  she  could  not  help 
wondering  where  Mrs.  Edmonds  and  Marjorie 
were,  and  why  he  did  not  bring  them.  She  had 
felt  so  sure  that  they  were  out  driving  with  him. 

The  door  had  opened  promptly  in  response  to 
Robbie's  invitation  and  there  had  entered,  not 
Mr.  Maxwell,  but  a  stranger. 


OLD  ACQUAINTANCES."  345 


CHAPTER     XXVII. 

"OLD    ACQUAINTANCES." 

IN  the  act  of  making  a  respectful  bow  to  the 
lady  in  attendance,  the  stranger  stopped  and 
stared  ;  then  spoke  quickly  : 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  surely  this  is  Miss 
Douglass  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Glyde,  the  pink  on  her  cheeks 
flushing  up  into  her  hair,  "  I  am  Glyde  Douglass ; 
and  you — I  remember  you  perfectly ;  it  is  Mr. 
Burwell,  is  it  not?" 

"  That  is  my  name,"  he  said,  in  the  tone  of  one 
who  was  very  glad  of  it ;  then  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

"  We  may  shake  hands  surely ;  we  are  old 
acquaintances,  are  we  not,  Miss  Douglass  ?  It  is 
a  great  surprise  as  well  as  a  great  pleasure  to 
meet  you  again.  I  have  often  wondered  how — I 
mean,  I  was  not  aware  that  you  lived  in  this  part 
of  the  country.  I  thought  you  were  from  the 
West.  My  uncle  said  something  about  -Denver." 

"  Oh,  that  is  where  my  Uncle  Anthony  lives, 
whose  guest  I  was  in  New  York  ;  but  this  is  my 
home.  Mr.  Burwell,  you  have  made  the  acquaint 
ance  of  my  friend  Robbie,  he  says." 


346  MAKING  FATE. 

Thus  reminded,  the  astonished  young  man 
turned  toward  the  waiting  Robbie,  and  for  the 
next  fifteen  minutes  the  boy  had  no  occasion  to 
be  jealous  of  Miss  Glyde  as  a  rival.  The  pockets, 
of  which  there  seemed  to  be  many,  were  filled  with 
treasures.  Not  eatables  this  time,  except  that 
there  was  one  great  juicy  apple,  but  little  thought 
ful  things  chosen  evidently  with  a  view  to  reliev 
ing  the  weariness  of  the  long  hours  which  the 
prisoned  boy  must  have  to  pass  alone.  Glyde, 
looking  on,  all  in  a  flutter  of  pleasure  for  Robbie's 
sake,  saw  how  tender  had  been  the  thought  of 
this  strong  man  for  the  frail  boy.  Then,  too,  she 
could  not  help  noticing  how  wise  and  cheery  and 
helpful  were  the  words  he  spoke. 

"  Did  you  learn  that  verse,  my  boy?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Robbie,  his  great  brown  eyes 
seeming  to  grow  larger  and  gentler.  "  I  learned 
it  right  away,  that  afternoon,  as  soon  as  you  had 
gone.  It  is  a  beautiful  verse  ;  Miss  Glyde,  I  didn't 
tell  it  to  you.  I'll  say  it  now.  '  As  one  whom 
his  mother  comforteth,  so  will  I  comfort  you.' 
Isn't  that  nice,  Miss  Glyde?  Just  for  me,  you 
know.  Mother  is  such  a  comfort  to  me  !  There 
couldn't  anything  tell  it  to  a  boy  like  me  better 
than  that." 

Glyde' and  Mr.  Burwell  exchanged  glances  of 
significant  sympathy  and  tenderness  for  the  boy  ; 
then  Mr.  Burwell  said,  "  That's  it,  my  boy;  it  is 
a  beautiful  verse  for  us  fellows  who  have  good 
mothers.  It  was  the  first  one  that  made  me  ac- 


"  OLD  ACQUAINTANCES."  347 

quainted  with  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  the  comfort  He 
was  willing  to  be  to  people.  My  mother,  you  see, 
had  gone  to  heaven,  and  I  missed  her,  oh,  more 
than  I  can  tell.  It  seemed  to  me  sometimes,  that 
I  could  not  live  without  her.  Then,  one  day  I 
came  upon  this  verse,  and  it  astonished  me  so 
much  !  I  had  not  thought  that  anybody  could 
comfort  a  boy  like  his  mother ;  and  to  find  that 
there  was  a  great  powerful  One  who  could  do 
anything,  that  was  right,  who  had  actually  planned 
to  be  such  a  comfort  to  me  as  my  mother  was,  and 
promised  it !  Why,  I  can't  tell  you  what  a  splen 
did  discovery  it  was  ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Robbie,  "  I  can  think  it  out.  But 
you  needed  it  awfully,  didn't  you?  It  doesn't 
seem  to  me  as  though  I  could  live  without  my 
mother." 

There  was  more  talk,  some  of  it  gay  and  frolic 
some  ;  some  of  it  sweet  and  strong ;  all  of  it 
cheery.  In  the  midst  of  it,  Glyde  looked  at  her 
watch  and  made  a  reluctant  admission :  "  Robbie 
I  am  ever  so  sorry,  but  I  shall  have  to  go  now ;  I 
promised  my  father  to  do  an  errand  for  him  down 
town  at  five  o'clock ;  and  I  shall  just  have  time  to 
get  there." 

Mr.  Burwell  arose  at  once.  "  Then  we  must 
both  go,  Robbie ;  I  have  to  be  in  a  gentle 
man's  office  away  down  on  Burke  Street  at  five  ; 
I  had  just  this  hour  for  you  between  times,  this 
afternoon.  Miss  Douglass,  may  I  walk  with  you 
to  your  car,  or  whatever  route  you  take  ?  " 


348  MAKING  FATE. 

When  they  were  on  the  street  together,  she  told 
him  what  she  knew  about  Robbie  and  his  unfort 
unate  accident,  and  the  sad  outlook  for  his  future  ; 
and  also  of  how  glad  she  was  that  he  had  found 
him,  and  put  such  brightness  into  a  few  hours  of 
his  life.  He  listened  to  the  story  with  such 
hearty  sympathy  and  had  ready  so  many  sugges 
tions  calculated  to  add  to  the  boy's  comfort,  that 
Glyde  felt  sure  here  was  one  who  could  enjoy  her 
precious  secret  ;  she  unfolded  it  at  once.  Uncle 
Anthony,  that  same  dear  Uncle  who  had  taken 
her  to  New  York.  Did  he  remember  him  ?  She 
had  been  writing  long  letters  to  him  this  winter, 
about  all  her  affairs,  but  especially  had  she  had  a 
good  deal  to  tell  him  about  Robbie.  Among  other 
things  she  had  told  him  that  she  was  thinking  and 
praying  about  a  great  wheeled  chair  for  the  boy, 
such  as  he  could  himself  roll  along  the  streets. 
She  had  sent  for  circulars,  and  inquired  as  to 
kinds,  and  prices.  She  did  not  know  whether  she 
could  ever  raise  money  enough  ;  she  was  not  ac 
quainted  with  many  people  who  seemed  to  have 
money  to  give ;  but  she  was  going  to  try.  She 
had  asked  God  to  help  her  think  of  the  right  ones 
to  call  upon. 

"  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  asking 
Uncle  Anthony  to  help,"  Glyde  explained,  "  be 
cause  he  is  not  at  all  wealthy,  and  of  course  there 
are  people  where  he  lives  who  need  to  be  thought 
about ;  my  plan  was  to  raise  the  money  if  I  could, 
in  our  own  church.  And  don't  you  think  he  an- 


"  OLD  ACQUAINTANCES."  349 

swered  the  letter  on  the  very  evening  oi  the  day 
in  which  he  had  received  it !  And  he  said,  in  his 
own  quaint  way,  which  is  unlike  any  other  per 
son's  that  he  supposed  by  this  time  the  One  of 
whom  I  asked  direction  had  reminded  me  that  I 
ought  to  use  my  common  sense,  as  well  as  my 
prayers  ;  and  my  common  sense  ought  to  have 
told  me  that  he  had  a  special  corner  of  his  heart 
set  apart  for  the  '  Robbies  '  of  the  world  ;  didn't 
I  remember  that  Aunt  Estelle's  little  brother  who 
died,  was  named  Robbie  ?  Aunt  Estelle  is  my 
uncle's  young  wife ;  he  had  her  with  him  only  a 
month,  after  their  marriage,  but  he  has  loved  her 
memory  all  his  life  ;  and  what  do  you  think  he 
put  in  his  letter  ?  A  check  which  will  cover  the 
entire  cost  of  the  chair !  The  letter  only  came  to 
day  ;  and  I've  been  in  such  a  bubble  of  delight 
over  it !  I  just  longed  to  tell  somebody.  I  Avent 
to  call  upon  a  friend  to  explain  it  all  to  her,  I 
wanted  to  ask  a  friend  of  hers  to  manage  the  cor 
respondence  about  it,  for  me,  but  she  wasn't  at 
home  ;  and  you  are  the  first  one  I  have  been  able 
to  tell.  I  had  to  keep  quiet  before  Robbie,  of 
course:  I  thought  it  would  be  too  much  strain 
upon  him  to  be  expecting  the  chair  for  weeks,  per 
haps  ;  those  things  are  delayed  so  often.  So  he 
doesn't  know  anything  about  it." 

Mr.  Burwell  was  exactly  the  person  for  a  confi 
dence  of  this  sort;  he  entered  into  the  scheme 
with  the  deepest  interest,  not  only,  but  with  re 
freshing  energy.  He  knew  the  spot  of  all  others 


350  MAKING  FATE. 

in  New  York  where  the  best  possible  style  of 
wheeled  carriage  could  be  bought  for  the  lowest 
possible  price.  He  was  on  a  hurried  business  trip, 
looking  up  some  details  of  a  law  case, -for  his 
chiefs  ;  he  would  be  back  in  New  York  in  three 
days'  time,  and  nothing  would  give  him  greater 
pleasure  than  to  serve  her.  His  uncle  knew  one 
member  of  the  firm  who  had  to  do  with  these  car 
riages,  and  could  very  possibly  secure  a  reduction 
from  the  regular  price.  If  Miss  Douglass  would 
be  at  leisure  that  evening  and  would  allow  him, 
he  would  call  upon  her  and  they  could  then  ar 
range  the  entire  matter. 

One  would  have  supposed  that  it  might  have 
troubled  an  honest  young  man  to  define  what 
matters  there  were  which  needed  any  arrange 
ment  !  There  seemed  nothing  left  to  be  done  but 
to  transfer  Glyde's  check  to  him  ;  but  the  young 
lady  accepted  his  proposition  with  gratitude  ;  it 
did  not  even  occur  to  the  innocent  creature  that 
they  had  no  known  business  which  could  occupy 
the  evening.  But  there  is  such  a  thing  as  manu 
facturing  business  ;  that  which  these  two  evolved, 
lasted  for  that  entire  evening,  and  the  next. 
Moreover,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day  they 
both  made  a  somewhat  extended  call  upon  Robbie. 
On  the  third  day,  Mr.  Bur  well  went  back  to  New 
York  to  purchase  the  wonderful  chair.  But  he 
left  interests  of  infinite  importance  to  himself,  be 
hind  him.  He  had  secured  from  Glyde,  permis 
sion  to  write  to  her,  not  only  concerning  the  chair. 


"  OLD  ACQUAINTANCES."  351 

but  about  the  meetings  at  the  Mission,  where  he 
was  now  a  regular  worker.  Also  he  was  to  tell 
her  of  his  New  York  boys,  who,  though  not  in  the 
least  like  Robbie,  were  yet  in  sore  need  of  help ; 
such  help  as  she  could  give  them  if  she  would. 

"  And  girls,  too,  Miss  Douglass,"  he  said  earn 
estly.  "  Why  I  know  some  poor  girls  in  our  Mis 
sion  who  would  feel  that  they  had  been  introduced 
to  the  society  of  angels,  if  they  could  have  such 
an  one  as  you  for  a  friend."  He  said  nothing 
about  a  young  man  who  might  possibly  have  like 
views  !  and  Glyde  was  far  too  much  in  earnest  to 
even  think  of  such  an  interpretation  of  his  words. 
She  assured  him  that  she  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  help  his  boys,  or  his  girls  in  any  way  that  he 
thought  she  could  ;  and  added  that  it  was  the 
work  to  which  she  wanted  to  give  her  life ; 
especially  to  help  the  class  of  girls  of  which  he 

had  just  spoken. 

***** 

Robbie  had  taken  many  rides  in  his  wonderful 
wheeled  chair,  and  more  lettei's  had  passed  be 
tween  Glyde  and  Mr.  Burwell  than  Mrs.  Douglass 
seemed  to  consider  necessary,  when  there  occurred 
an  event  in  the  social  world  which  placed  all  party 
lovers  on  the  qui  vive  of  expectation. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  the  Schuyler  farm 
house  was  large  and  roomy,  and  most  hospitably 
inclined.  Also  that  there  were  gay  young  people 
there  who  knew  how  to  entertain  their  friends  and 
kept  open  house  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.  But 


352  MAKING  FATE. 

perhaps  once  a  year,  it  might  be  in  midwinter,  or 
at  the  opening  of  summer,  they  varied  as  to  sea 
sons,  the  family  were  in  the  habit  of  throwing  open 
every  room  in  their  delightful  old  house,  and 
thronging  the  place  with  their  friends.  Not  an 
ordinary  party  but  a  joyous,  old-fashioned  time. 
They  had  chosen  for  this  year's  festival  the  month 
of  May.  Mrs.  Edmonds  and  Marjorie  had  received 
invitations  and  were  considering  them,  among 
other  matters  of  importance.  One  of  these  was 
connected  with  their  lodger.  In  June,  Mr.  Max 
well's  long  holiday  would  be  over.  He  was  going 
abroad  for  the  summer  months,  on  business  con 
nected  with  his  college,  and  in  the  following 
October  his  work  as  a  professor  would  commence 
again  in  earnest.  The  question  was,  should  they 
try  to  let  the  room  which  he  would  so  soon  vacate  ? 
There  was  no  special  need  for  this,  so  far  as  the 
pecuniary  side  was  concerned.  Mrs.  Edmonds, 
though  by  no  means  a  wealthy  woman,  had  enough, 
prudently  managed,  for  herself  and  Marjorie  to 
live  comfortably  upon.  The  room  had  been  rented 
in  the  first  place  because  they  often  felt  lonely, 
especially  on  winter  nights,  and  liked  the  thought 
of  there  being  some  one  in  the  house  to  whom  they 
could  appeal  if  occasion  offered.  Now,  however, 
they  found  that  they  shrank  from  having  a  stranger 
come  into  their  home. 

"  It  would  be  a  very  different  matter  if  we  could 
keep  Mr.  Maxwell,"  said  the  mother  thoughtfully, 
"  we  know  him."  She  seemed  to  forget  that  she 


"  OLD  ACQUAINTANCES."  353 

had  taken  him  as  an  utter  stranger.  "  What  do  you 
think,  Marjorie  dear ;  shall  we  go  back  to  our  old 
ways  and  get  along  alone,  or  shall  we  let  our 
friends  know  that  we  have  a  vacant  room  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Marjorie  a  little  wearily. 
"  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  just  us  two  alone  ;  we 
have  had  a  lodger  so  long  ;  at  least  it  seems  a  very 
long  time  since  Mr.  Maxwell  came." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Edmonds.  "  We  shall  miss 
him  very  much. 

She  was  looking  closely  at  her  daughter  with  the 
keen  vision  of  an  anxious  mother;  but  the  girl 
answered  in  a  quiet,  unresponsive  tone,  "  Yes,  of 
course  we  shall ;  but  then  I  suppose  we  could  take 
another  stranger  and  get  acquainted  with  him 
and  plan  to  miss  him." 

She  laughed  a  little  drearily.  For  the  moment, 
life  looked  to  her  like  a  long  stretch  of  meeting 
and  missing  people.  Suddenly,  she  turned  and 
looked  steadily  at  her  mother  with  a  new  thought 
in  her  heart,  and  shadowing  her  face.  They  were 
like  girls  together,  people  said,  she  and  her  mother, 
but  of  course  they  were  not  "  girls  together,"  and 
the  mother's  hair  was  turning  gray.  She  was  a 
frail,  pale  mother ;  what  if  she  should  go  away 
some  day  and  leave  Marjorie  alone !  The  girl's 
heart  seemed  fairly  to  cease  beating  for  a  single 
moment,  then  start  afresh  in  unnatural  thuds. 
She  was  like  Robbie ;  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  not  live  without  her  mother. 

"  Make  it  the  way  which  seems  easiest  for  you, 


354  MAKING  FATE. 

mother,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  I  do  not  care  which 
it  is ;  truly  I  don't ;  so  that  you  are  comfortable. 
If  you  feel  lonely  at  the  thought  of  our  being 
the  only  ones  in  the  house  at  night,  take  another 
lodger  by  all  means.  He  may  prove  to  be  a  second 
Mr.  Maxwell." 

"  I  suppose,  dear,  you  would  not  feel  like  clos 
ing  the  house  and  going  away  anywhere  else  for 
the  winter  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Edmonds  hesitatingly. 
For  the  moment  Marjorie  forgot  her  desire  that 
the  mother  should  have  exactly  her  way. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  she  said,  hurriedly,  "  nor  for  the 
summer  either,  if  we  can  help  it.  Do  let  us  stay 
at  home ;  I  would  rather  be  here  than  anywhere. 
There  is  my  class  to  be  thought  of,  and  Glyde's 
girls,  and  our  women  who  depend  so  much  upon 
us.  Besides,  this  is  our  home,  mother,  yours  and 
mine.  If  we  went  away  for  a  time,  we  should  only 
have  to  come  back  ;  and  that  would  make  us  feel 
more  lonely  than  ever.  We  ought  to  stay  here, 
oughtn't  we?  We  shall  never  have  any  other 
home  ;  you  and  I." 

She  had  evidently  given  up  all  idea  of  any 
change  of  relations ;  and  had  no  dreams  of  a  pos 
sible  rich  future  such  as  most  happy,  free-hearted 
girls  indulge  occasionally.  It  hurt  her  mother  to 
think  that  this  one  lamb  of  hers  was  growing  old 
and  dignified  before  her  time.  Hurt  her  so  much, 
that  sometimes  she  could  not  keep  the  bitterness 
out  of  her  heart  when  she  thought  of  Ralph  Bram- 
lett.  Why  should  such  as  he  be  permitted  to 


"OLD  ACQUAINTANCES."  355 

shadow  the  life  of  a  girl  like  her  Marjorie  ?  Why 
did  not  Marjorie  see  his  worthlessness  ? 

If  she  could  but  by  some  means  be  made  to  see 
him  with  her  mother's  eyes ! 

Into  the  midst  of  this  family  council  came  Mr. 
Maxwell  with  a  note  of  invitation  in  his  hand. 

"  The  Schuylers  have  kindly  remembered  me, 
also,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  too  much  engaged 
during  the  winter  for  enjoyments  of  this  kind  ;  but 
I  have  met  Mr.  Schuyler,  and  was  pleasantly 
impressed  by  him.  If  I  knew  any  intimate  friends 
of  mine  who  were  going  to  spend  an  evening  at 
his  house  soon,  so  as  to  ensure  a  pleasant  time  for 
myself,  I  think  I  might  be  induced  to  accept  this 
invitation." 

Mrs.  Edmonds  met  this  with  an  appreciative 
laugh.  "  I  shall  be  glad  to  secure  you  for  an 
ally,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  trying  to  persuade 
Marjorie  to  go.  The  Schuylers  are  very  old 
friends  of  ours,  and  it  does  not  seem  quite  the 
courteous  thing  to  decline  an  invitation  of  this 
character,  with  no  better  excuse  than  we  have. 
Marjorie  is  disposed  to  think  that  it  will  be  too 
hard  an  evening  for  me — to  go  so  far,  and  to  be 
out,  of  necessity,  quite  late ;  but  I  have  assured 
her  that  I  am  entirely  equal  to  an  occasional  dis 
sipation  of  that  sort.  If  you  can  induce  her  to 
think  well  of  it,  I  shall  be  glad.'' 

She  would  be  more  glad  than  she  cared  to  ex 
press  to  Mr.  Maxwell.  Being  watchful  and  anx 
ious,  she  could  not  help  knowing  that,  while  her 


MAKING  FATE. 

daughter's  face  was  uniformly  sweet  and  quiet, 
and  her  interest  in  the  new  duties  and  cares  which 
she  had  taken  upon  herself  sincere  and  pronounced, 
yet  she  was  by  no  means  her  old  bright  self. 
This  matter  of  steadily  declining  all  invitations  of 
a  general  character,  disturbed  the  mother.  She 
understood  the  subtle  reason  for  it,  and  knew 
.there  was  danger  that  Marjorie  might  grow  mor 
bidly  sensitive  in  this  direction  as  the  years 
passed,  unless  something  occurred  to  change  the 
current  of  her  feelings.  She  wondered  if  Mr. 
Maxwell  had  a  suspicion  of  her  anxiety,  and  was 
breaking  through  his  usual  habits  for  a  purpose. 
He  had  a  curious  way  of  seeming  to  know  how 
people  felt  and  thought,  without  explanations  of 
any  sort.  It  would  not  be  the  first  time,  she  re 
flected,  that  he  had  come  quietly  to  her  aid, 
unsuspected  by  Marjorie. 

It  was  finally  determined  that  the  invitation 
should  be  accepted,  and  that  the  three  should  go 
in  company ;  Marjorie  having  steadily  and  with 
a  determined  air  negatived  any  suggestions  look 
ing  to  the  release  of  her  mother. 

"  I  do  not  care  to  go,  mother,"  she  said  quietly, 
"  and  do  not  feel,  as  you  seem  to,  that  courtesy 
demands  our  presence  ;  but  since  you  feel  so,  I 
am  willing  to  go  with  you;  not  without  you." 

Nevertheless,  it  came  to  pass  that  such  was  not 
to  be  the  arrangement.  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
gathering,  a  near  neighbor  of  theirs  who  was  ill, 
sent  to  know  if  Mrs.  Edmonds  would  be  willing 


' '  OLD  A  CQ  UA  IN  TA  NCES. "  357 

to  spend  the  evening  with  her,  in  her  husband's 
enforced  absence  ;  and  as  she  had  been  quite  ill 
and  was  nervous,  and  had  evidently  set  her  heart 
upon  having  Mrs.  Edmonds,  and  no  one  else,  for 
company,  that  lady  did  not  consider  it  right  to 
offer  a  mere  social  engagement  as  an  excuse  for 
disappointing  her. 

"  It  is  not  as  though  I  really  belonged  to  that 
part  of  the  world,"  she  said,  smiling,  to  Marjorie. 
"  You  know,  my  dear,  that  it  is  only  your  fondness 
for  having  me  with  you  that  makes  it  important ; 
I  shall  not  be  missed,  nor  thought  about  twice 
this  evening,  except  by  your  dear  self ;  and  as 
Mrs.  Stuart  really  seems  to  cling  to  me,  I  feel  that 
I  ought  to  stay.  Don't  you  think  so,  dear  ?  " 

"  You  have  left  nothing  else  for  me  to  think," 
said  Marjorie,  trying  to  smile.  She  shrank  to  a 
degree  that  she  did  not  herself  understand,  from 
going  to  the  Schuylers'  without  her  mother.  Yet, 
as  the  idea  seemed  only  absurd,  she  felt  compelled 
to  do  as  she  would  not,  and  in  due  course  of  time 
found  herself  journeying  in  Mr.  Maxwell's  com 
pany  over  the  road  which  was  so  familiar  to  her, 
but  which  she  had  not  traversed  since  that  mem 
orable  November  evening.  If  Mr.  Maxwell  re 
membered  the  same  evening,  which  was  probable, 
he  made  no  sign,  but  kept  his  companion's  thoughts 
on  the  book  which  they  had  last  read  ;  question 
ing  and  cross-questioning,  as  to  her  knowledge  of 
it,  so  skillfully  that  Marjorie  was  compelled  to  put 
aside  memories  and  nervousness  altogether,  and 


358  MAKING  FATE. 

give  undivided  attention  to  the  subject  in  hand, 
if  she  would  not  disgrace  her  reputation  as  a 
listener. 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING.  359 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A   FATEFUL   EVENING. 

THEY  were  late  in  arriving  at  the  Schuyler 
farm,  having  been  detained  at  the  last  moment  by 
some  tardily  thought  of  plans  for  Mrs.  Edmonds' 
comfort  during  their  absence  ;  nearly  all  the  other 
guests  seemed  to  have  been  present  for  some 
time,  and  were  in  full  tide  of  sociability. 

Prominent  among  them,  quite  a  center,  indeed, 
was  Estelle  Douglass,  in  new  and  exceedingly  be 
coming  spring  attire  ;  and  with  a  glow  on  her 
cheeks  and  a  sparkle  in  her  eyes  which  indicated 
entire  satisfaction  with  herself  and  her  surround 
ings. 

She  hovered  not  far  away  from  Ralph  Bramlett 
during  the  most  of  evening,  seeming  to  desire 
especially  to  make  known  the  fact  that  she  had  a 
right  to  appropriate  him. 

That  young  man  was  by  no  means  at  his  best. 
He  was  more  carefully  dressed,  perhaps,  than  he 
used  to  be  ;  although  he  had  always  been  careful 
of  his  personal  appearance,  but  his  fifteen  hundred 
dollar  salary  had  enabled  him  to  indulge  in  some 
expenditures  in  that  direction  from  which  economy 
had  held  him  heretofore.  His  new  suit  was  un 
doubtedly  becoming ;  but  his  face  was  pale  and 


360  MAKING  FATE. 

unnaturally  grave  ;  his  eyes  had  a  look  of  unrest, 
and  his  manner  to  Estelle,  had  any  one  been 
closely  observing  them,  would  at  times  have 
suggested  almost  irritability. 

Marjorie  would  not  be  a  close  observer;  feeling 
sure  that  no  good  could  result,  at  least  at  present, 
from  their  coming  in  contact  with  each  other,  she 
took  pains  to  keep  as  far  away  from  both  Estelle 
and  Ralph  as  she  could,  without  attracting  atten 
tion.  If  she  had  been  thinking  very  much  about 
herself,  however,  she  would  have  discovered  that 
so  far  from  Ralph  seconding  her  efforts  in  this 
direction,  he  was  evidently  anxious  to  be  in  her 
vicinity.  If  she  found  her  way  to  the  music-room, 
he  was  sure  to  be  there  in  a  very  few  minutes ;  did 
she  join  the  promenaders  in  the  large,  old-fashioned 
hall,  the  second  turn  she  made,  Ralph  was  almost 
certain  to  be  just  behind  her.  When  she  sang,  as 
she  had  promised  her  mother  she  would  do,  when 
invited,  it  was  Ralph  Bramlett  who  stood  at  her 
right,  so  close  to  Mr.  Maxwell  that  it  was  with 
difficulty  he  turned  her  music.  He  said  almost 
nothing,  apparently  to  anybody,  and  his  face  grew 
constantly  moodier.  Once,  Mr.  Maxwell  turned 
and  looked  at  him  for  an  instant,  in  utmost  sur 
prise  ;  the  occasion  was  when  Estelle  had  asked 
him  to  join  the  groups  on  the  piazza. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  go  on  the  piazza,"  he  said. 
"  Can  you  never  feel  willing  to  let  a  person  do 
what  he  wants  to  for  five  seconds  at  a  time?" 

The  question  and  tone   were  so  charged   with 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING.  361 

irritability,  that  it  had  been  impossible  for  Mr. 
Maxwell  not  to  turn  to  be  sure  of  the  speaker,  nor 
had  he  kept  the  look  of  reproof  entirely  out  of  his 
eyes.  Ralph  saw  him,  and  colored,  and  felt  more 
annoyed  and  angry  than  before. 

But  it  was  late  in  the  evening  when  the  in 
cident  occurred  which  brought  to  nought  all 
Marjorie's  efforts  to  avoid  a  direct  conversation 
with  her  old  friend.  She  was  out,  with  many 
others,  on  the  lawn,  which  was  brilliantly  and  fan 
tastically  lighted  with  many  Chinese  lanterns.  It 
formed  a  place  of  special  attraction  on  this  lovely 
May  evening,  which  was  almost  as  warm  as  an 
evening  in  midsummer.  Marjorie  and  little  Effie 
Schuyler  had  been  taking  a  walk  through  the 
grounds,  with  Mr.  Maxwell  for  their  companion. 
There  was  a  certain  remarkable  tree  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  house,  which  Effie  had  been  describing 
to  Mr.  Maxwell;  he  had  asked  her  many  questions 
concerning  it,  which  she  could  not  answer,  and 
she  had  become  very  anxious  to  take  him  to  see  it. 
She  had  finally  carried  him  off  in  triumph  to  see 
for  himself  how  impossible  it  was  for  her  to  tell 
all  the  things  about  it  that  he  had  asked.  Marjorie 
had  taken  a  rustic  seat  under  one  of  those  charm 
ingly  lighted  trees,  and  agreed  to  await  their 
return.  She  had  seen  that  wonderful  tree  many 
times,  she  affirmed,  and  knew  no  more  about  it 
than  Effie  did  ;  if  Mi1.  Maxwell  could  answer  his 
own  questions,  simply  by  observing  it  once,  he  was 
the  very  person  to  give  it  attention. 


362  MAKING  FATE. 

It  was  under  the  trees  that  Ralph  Bramlett 
found  her.  He  came  upon  her  suddenly,  from  one 
of  the  paths  that  was  in  shadow,  and  it  chanced 
that  at  the  moment  none  of  the  many  groups  on 
the  lawn  were  near  her.  The  first  that  she  knew 
of  Ralph's  approach  was  the  sound  of  her  name, 
"  Marjorie  !  "  spoken  by  the  voice  she  knew  so 
well,  but  there  was  a  new  note  in  it — a  note  of 
peremptoriness,  irritability,  almost  of  anger.  No 
wonder  that  it  startled  her.  She  half  arose,  then 
sat  down  again. 

"  Yes "  she  said  gently.  Her  thought  had 

always  been  to  be  as  kind  and  cordial  with  Ralph 
as  possible,  when  it  should  suit  his  pleasure  to 
allow  her  an  opportunity.  He  gave  her  no  time 
to  consider  what  more  she  should  say,  but  plunged 
at  once  into  words. 

"  I  want  to  see  you ;  I  have  been  watching  for 
an  opportunity  all  the  evening,  and  you  have  been 
watching  to  avoid  me.  How  long  is  this  farce  to 
go  on  ?  Why  do  you  treat  me  in  this  absurd  way  ? 
Look  back  over  the  months  and  see  if  you  can 
answer  the  question.  It  is  inconceivable  that  you 
are  utterly  heartless,  and  I  had  never  thought  of 
you  as  a  flirt ;  but  how  else  am  I  to  construe  your 
treatment  of  me  ?  " 

"  Ralph  !  "  she  exclaimed,  surprise  and  utter  be 
wilderment  in  her  voice.  Was  this  the  raving  of  a 
man  who  did  not  know  what  he  was  saying?  It 
was  so  utterly  unlike  words  which  she  had  ex 
pected  to  hear  from  him  !  "  What  has  occurred  to 


RALPH  AND  MARJOKIE. 

'  The  first  she  knew  of  Ralph's  approach  was  the  sound  of  her  name." 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING  363 

excite  you  ;  to  make  it  possible  for  you  to  feel 
that  you  can  address  such  language  to  me  ?  " 

"  Oh  don't  go  on  in  that  sort  of  way  to  me, 
Marjorie  ;  I  tell  you,  I  won't  stand  it !  I  have 
borne  a  great  deal  from  you  ;  but  when  you  put  on 
that  air  of  soft  surprise,  and  ^pretend  that  you  do 
not  understand,  it  is  more  than  flesh  and  blood  can 
endure.  I  ask  you  how  long  you  wish  this  farce 
that  has  been  going  on  for  months  between  us,  to 
be  continued  ?  It  is  utter  folly  for  you  to  pretend 
ignorance  of  my  meaning ;  you  and  I  have  known 
for  years  that  we  belong  to  each  other,  and  that  no 
person  had  a  right  to  come  between  us.  Explain, 
if  you  can,  why  you  considered  it  necessary  to 
suddenly  build  up  a  wall  of  separation  between  us, 
merely  because  my  judgment  in  one  single  partic 
ular  did  not  agree  with  yours,  and  I  reserved  the 
right,  which  any  man  of  sense  has,  to  use  his  own 
judgment,  when  he  is  the  responsible  person.  It 
is  six  months  since  we  were  here,  Marjorie;  are 
not  six  months  of  misunderstanding  and  misery 
enough  to  atone  to  even  you,  for  not  having  had 
your  own  way  in  every  particular?" 

The  uppermost  feeling  in  Marjorie's  mind  for 
the  moment,  was  bewilderment.  Was  this  man 
growing  insane,  or  was  she  ?  "  Six  months  of 
misunderstanding  and  misery  ; "  yes,  she  under 
stood  so  much !  but  the  man  to  whom  she  had 
written  a  note  so  kind  that  even  her  mother 
feared  lest  it  should  be  misunderstood,  had  re 
turned  her  a  reply  which  was  almost  insulting  in 


364  MAKING  FATE. 

its  coldness,  and  had  from  that  time  discarded 
even  her  friendship  ;  not  only  this,  but  he  was 
engaged  to  another ;  and  yet  he  stood  before  her 
apparently  upbraiding  her  for  what  had  from  the 
beginning  been  of  his  own  planning  !  Certainly 
he  must,  for  the  moment,  be  out  of  his  mind. 
How  was  she  to  reply  ?  She  looked  at  him  out  of 
great,  troubled  eyes,  and  allowed  the  startling 
query  to  pass  through  her  mind  :  Could  it  be 
possible  that  he  had  been  taking  something 
stronger  than  the  lemonades  and  chocolates  which 
the  Schuylers  served  ?  She  dismissed  the  thought 
on  the  instant,  as  unworthy  of  consideration,  and 
answered  him  as  she  might  have  done  a  semi- 
lunatic. 

"  Ralph,  I  have  not  the  slightest  conception  of 
your  meaning.  You  wrong  me  if  you  suppose 
that  I  have  a  hard  thought  in  my  heart  con 
cerning  you.  I  have  never  at  any  time  had  the 
slightest  desire  to  make  one  hour  of  your  life 
miserable ;  on  the  contrary,  my  daily  prayer  is  for 
your  happiness  in  the  life  that  you  have  chosen." 

He  turned  half  away  from  her,  as  if  in  ungov 
ernable  impatience,  even  anger,  as  he  said  roughly : 
"  Leave  all  that  out ;  if  you  have  nothing  but 
prayers  to  offer  me,  I  can  get  along  without  them. 
What  T  want  to  know,  is,  do  you  dare  to  tell  me  that 
you  did  not  understand  that  we  were  the  same  as 
engaged  to  each  other  ?  " 

The  flush  which  had  spread  over  Marjorie's  face 
at  the  sound  of  her  name  from  his  lips,  had  died 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING.  365 

quite  away ;  she  was  very  pale  now,  but  quiet 
enough ;  much  less  excited  than  was  he. 

"  Ralph  !  "  she  said  again  ;  but  there  had  come 
a  change  in  her  voice  ;  there  was  an  undertone  of 
sternness — "  I  do  not  understand  what  possible 
good  can  result  from  speaking  of  those  past  days, 
now  ;  whatever  either  of  us  may  have  thought  in 
the  past,  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  present.  The 
basis  upon  which  we  may  talk  in  the  future  is  one, 
I  hope,  of  friendliness  and  kindness.  But  I,  at 
least,  remember  that  I  am  speaking  to  a  man  who 
is  engaged  to  Estelle  Douglass." 

"  Estelle  Douglass  be  hanged !  "  he  said  hoarsely. 
"Don't  fling  her  name  at  me  now  ;  you  know  per 
fectly  well  that  you  have  yourself  to  thank  for  the 
wretched  position  in  which  I  find  myself.  Had 
you  not  chosen  to  try  to  humiliate  me,  by  flirting 
openly  and  shame-facedly  with  that  insufferable 
psalm-singing  hypocrite  whom  you  have  let  into 
your  house,  I  should  never  have  been  overwhelmed 
with  the  embarrassments  which  now  beset  me  ;  it 
will  hardly  do  for  you  to  fling  my  misery  in  my 
face,  when  you  have  yourself  to  thank  for  it." 

Then  indeed  she  arose,  and  the  flash  in  her  eyes 
was  one  of  unmistakable  indignation. 

"  Mr.  Bramlett,"  she  said  in  a  tone  such  as  he 
had  never  before  heard  from  her,  "  you  forget 
yourself  utterly.  You  are  disgracing  yourself 
and  insulting  me.  I  am  quite  unable  to  under 
stand  what  your  object  can  be.  I  will  try  hard  to 
think  that  some  unexpected  trouble  has  tempera- 


366  x  MAKING  FATE. 

rily  unsettled  your  mind  ;  I  know  of  no  other  ex 
planation  which  could  atone  for  what  you  have 
said  to  me.  Let  me  pass,  please." 

Then  this  young  man  of  impulse  felt  himself 
suddenly  impelled  to  an  entire  change  of  base. 
He  caught  at  her  arm  as  she  would  have  passed 
him,  and  grasped  her  hand.  "  Marjorie,  don't !  " 
he  said  brokenly  :  "  Don't  go  away ;  I  don't  know 
what  I  have  said  ;  I  don't  mean  the  half  of  it ;  I 
don't  mean  any  of  it,  if  you  choose  ;  only — I  can't 
lose  you  again.  Oh,  Marjorie  !  how  could  you 
let  anything  or  any  person  come  between  us? 
Nothing  shall !  " — bursting  into  sudden  anger 
again, — "  I  will  have  my  rights  !  You  belong 
to  me.  Estelle  Douglass  is  less  than  nothing  to 
me,  and  always  was.  I  was  insane,  or  a  fool,  when 
I  allowed  her  to  imagine  otherwise ;  it  is  not  for 
you  to  lay  such  a  thing  up  against  me  ;  you  know, 
and  always  have  known,  that  you  are  the  onl}'- 
person  in  the  world  to  me.  Let  us  end  all  this  at 
once,  Marjorie.  Let  us  be  married,  right  away. 
I  am  in  a  position  now  to  take  care  of  you.  Had 
I  been,  six  months  ago,  all  this  misery  might 
have  been  saved  us.  Marjorie,  there  is  nothing, 
there  shall  be  nothing,  that  can  separate  us  again. 
Do  not  think  about  Estelle  ;  she  is  a  creature 
without  depth  ;  you  have  said  so  yourself,  many 
a  time ;  and  we  both  know  it  is  true.  She  will 
forget  me  in  a  week  •  she  has  known  for  a  dozen 
years  that  you  and  I  belonged  to  each  other.  Oh, 
Marjorie  ! " 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING.  367 

"  Mr.  Bramlett,  I  desire  you  to  let  me  pass, 
without  another  instant's  delay !  If  you  under 
take  to  detain  me,  I  shall  call  for  assistance." 

And  then  Ralph  Bramlett  knew  that  he  had 
passed  beyond  the  bound  of  even  his  influence. 
Marjorie  spoke  in  such  a  voice  as  he  had  not  sup 
posed  she  could  use.  He  dropped  his  detaining 
hand  suddenly,  and  took  a  single  step  aside.  None 
too  soon  ;  she  swept  past  him  like  a  queen,  just 
as  Mr.  Maxwell's  voice  was  heard,  still  in  merry 
chat  with  little  Effie  Schuyler.  There  was  the 
slightest  possible  touch  of  surprise  in  his  manner 
as  he  saw  who  was  waiting  near  Marjorie,  but  he 
lifted  his  hat  to  him  courteously,  not  apparently 
noticing  that  he  received  no  sort  of  response,  and 
turned  to  Marjorie. 

"  Would  you  like  to  return  to  the  house,  Miss 
Edmonds,  or  shall  we  remain  out  longer?  " 

"  I  would  like  to  go  in  at  once,"  said  Marjorie, 
and  he,  too,  noted  the  new  ring  in  her  voice.  As 
Effie  suddenly  flitted  away  from  them  among  the 
trees,  she  added  :  "  Mr.  Maxwell,  I  would  like  to 
go  home,  if  it  is  possible.  Do  you  think  I  could 
get  away  without  attracting  too  much  notice  ?  " 

"•  Certainly,"  he  said  quietly.  "  It  is  quite  time 
that  an  affair  of  this  kind  was  breaking  up.  I  had 
designed  consulting  your  wishes  as  soon  as  I  had 
bestowed  Miss  Effie  in  a  safe  place.  I  am  beginning 
to  have  qualms  of  conscience  over  my  promises  to 
your  mother,  already." 

"  Then  let  us  get  away  at  once,"  said  Marjorie 


3t)8  MAKING  FATE. 

with  unnecessary  energy.  u  I  will  be  ready  in  a 
very  few  minutes.  I  will  not  return  to  the  parlors 
at  all ;  Mrs.  Schuyler  is  in  the  dining-room,  I  think, 
if  you  will  come  that  way,  we  can  go  out  by  the 
dining-room  door." 

It  was  only  too  apparent  that  something  had 
occurred  to  excite  her  painfully.  The  hand  which 
Mr.  Maxwell  took  to  assist  her  up  the  steps, 
trembled,  and  was  as  cold  as  ice.  But  of  course 
there  was  nothing  which  he  could  do,  except  to 
appear  as  blind  as  a  bat,  and  conduct  himself  as 
though  nothing  unusual  had  occurred.  This  he 
did  to  perfection  ;  mentally  berating  himself  the 
while,  for  having  left  his  charge  ;  and,  yet,  in  great 
mystification  as  to  what  could  have  occurred  to  so 
unnerve  her. 

In  a  very  short  space  of  time  they  were  on  the 
road,  and  the  late  moon  was  making  their  way 
brilliant.  Even  the  moon  came  to  suggest  the 
evening  when  they  had  traveled  this  way  before  ! 
Selim  was  at  his  very  best,  so  their  progress  was 
rapid.  Mr.  Maxwell,  taking  no  notice  of  his  com 
panion's  few  words,  spoken  with  evident  effort, 
talked  on,  almost  uninterruptedly.  Discovering  it 
to  be  difficult  for  her  to  respond,  even  in  monosyl 
lables  to  his  remarks,  he  took  refuge  in  a  long  story 
of  not  too  thrilling  interest,  which  he  knew,  by 
being  told  in  minutest  detail  could  be  expected  to 
occupy  a  good  deal  of  the  time  ;  he  told  it  in  a  way 
to  require  no  questionings,  or  comments.  Some 
of  it  Marjorie  heard ;  but  the  narrator  did  his  work 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING.  369 

so  well,  that  during  a  portion  of  the  time  she  could 
give  herself  up  to  the  business  of  trying  to  get  the 
control  of  her  over-wrought  nerves.  It  was  a  dif 
ficult  thing  to  accomplish.  She  felt  a  sense  of 
great  relief  in  the  discovery  at  last  that  in  a  very 
few  minutes  she  would  be  at  home  and  she  could 
take  refuge  in  the  darkness  of  her  own  room. 
Meantime,  what  must  her  companion  think  of 
her?  Being  frank  by  nature,  she  resolved  upon 
an  attempt  at  explanation  and  apology. 

"  Mr.  Maxwell,  you  have  been  very  kind  to  me 
to-night,  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  grateful. 
I  had  a  conversation  with —  "  she  hesitated  for  the 
right  word,  and  began  again.  "  Something  oc 
curred  this  evening  which  has  made  me  feel — inca 
pable  of  conversation.  You  have  seen  it,  of  course, 
and  have  been  thoughtful  as  usual.  I  thank  you 
very  much." 

He  hardly  knew  how  to  reply  to  her,  without 
exhibiting  too  much  sympathy;  but  after  a  mo- 
ments's  hesitation,  he  said  : 

"  Consider  me  at  all  times,  please,  as  a  friend 
with  whom  you  may  talk  or  keep  silence,  according 
to  the  mood  of  the  hour.  I  am  very  well  aware  that 
we  do  not  at  all  times  feel  like  talking.  Your 
mother  has  reached  home  before  us  and  is  at  the 
window,  I  see.  I  am  glad  we  have  made  such  good 
time.  She  cannot  have  been  long  alone." 

Marjorie  had  fled  to  the  solitude  of  her  own 
room  with  a  feeling  of  haste  upon  her,  more  than 
once  during  those  six  months ;  but  never  it  seemed 
24 


370  MAKING  FATE 

to  her  more  eagerly  than  she  did  that  night.  A 
strange  sense  of  humiliation  possessed  her  which 
made  her  shrink  even  from  her  mother's  tender 
questionings.  It  was  almost  as  though  she  had  sat 
still  and  allowed  herself  and  her  mother's  teach 
ings,  and  the  conscience  and  purity  of  them  both  to 
be  insulted.  What  had  not  that  man  said  to  her 
under  cover  of  their  dead  past !  Not  content  with 
tearing  away  all  the  sacred  privacy  which  should 
gather  about  his  relations  with  the  woman  whom 
he  had  asked  to  be  his  wife,  he  must  even  propose 
marriage  to  her  !  The  man  whom  she  had  trained 
herself  for  weeks  to  look  upon  in  the  same  light 
as  one  who  had  already  taken  marriage  vows ! 

What  had  his  engagement  meant  to  him,  then  ? 
What  had  their  friendship  been  worth,  ever,  since 
he  could  even  accuse  her,  the  woman  he  was  at 
that  moment  professing  to  love  above  all  others, 
of  the  lowest  and  coarsest  form  of  petty  revenge 
known  to  womankind  !  Her  cheeks  burned  in  the 
darkness  as  she  thought  of  it.  Oh,  the  man  must 
certainly  be  insane  !  She  could  almost  hope,  for 
the  honor  of  his  future,  that  he  was  ;  yet  her  stern 
common  sense  coming  to  the  rescue,  assured  her 
that  lie  had  known  only  too  well  what  he  was  say 
ing.  He  had  been  angry  and  determined  ;  and 
had  spoken  out  in  the  suddenness  of  his  anger 
thoughts  which  must  often  have  been  in  his  mind. 
He  did  not  love  Estelle  Douglass ;  did  not  even 
respect  her  enough  not  to  speak  such  words  of  her 
as  he  had  that  night.  And  he  had  asked  her  to 


A  FATEFUL  EVENING.  371 

be  his  wife  !  and  she  was  daily  planning  for  the 
time  when  they  two  should  be  as  one !  What  a 
monstrous  thing  it  was !  She  felt  a  great  pity  for 
Estelle,  surging  into  her  heart ;  and  there  met  it  that 
overwhelming  sense  of  shame  for  herself.  That  he 
should  take  her  to  be  such  an  one  as  that !  That 
he  should  dare  to  talk  to  her  about  love !  The 
pain  and  shame  and  burning  indignation  which 
she  had  kept  under  with  resolute  hand  during  that 
homeward  ride,  revenged  themselves  upon  her  at 
last  in  an  outburst  of  more  bitter  tears  than  she 
had  known  she  could  shed. 

Nevertheless  she  opened  that  communicating 
door  before  her  mother  was  ready  for  rest,  and 
went  swiftly  towards  her,  speaking  rapidly : 

"  Mother,  let  us  close  the  house  just  as  soon  as 
we  can,  and  go  away ;  let  us  be  gone  all  summer  ; 
longer  than  that ;  forever,  if  it  were  possible.  I 
cannot  stay  here." 

Mrs.  Edmonds  turned  and  looked  at  her 
daughter  in  wonder  and  dismay.  What  had  hap 
pened  now?  The  girl's  eyes  were  bright  with  the 
excitement  which  is  not  far  removed  from  anger ; 
yet  she  had  been  crying  hard.  Could  Mr.  Max 
well  have  said  or  done  anything  to  disturb  the 
careful  self-control  which  she  knew  that  Marjorie 
had  been  cultivating  ? 

"  My  dear,  what  is  it  ?  "she  asked,  putting  both 
arms  around  her  child  and  drawing  her  to  the  old 
childhood  resting-place,  her  face  hidden  on  her 
mother's  breast.  The  act  brought  the  tears  again 


372  MAKING  FATE. 

for  a  few  minutes,  but  she  gave  them  little  chance, 
this  time.  "  Mother/'  she  said,  raising  her  head, 
"  forgive  me  and  do  not  be  frightened.  I  ought 
not  to  disturb  and  distress  you  ;  so  late  as  it  is, 
too.  Nothing  very  terrible  has  happened;  that  is 
— only — mamma,  I  feel  as  if  I  must  go  away  from 
here  now ;  as  though  I  could  not  breathe  in  the 
same  town  with  them" 

She  hid  her  face  again,  and  the  mother  stood 
distressed  and  wondering.  But  presently  the  girl 
stood  erect  and  finished  her  story,  as  much  of  it 
as  she  meant  to  tell. 

"  Mother,  I  have  lost  my  respect  for  him  now  ; 
and  when  a  girl  has  to  say  that,  it  is  bitter." 

Then  Mrs.  Edmonds  knew  that  her  daughter 
had  had  an  experience  which  cho  believed  that 
loyalty  to  others  would  not  allow  her  to  tell,  even 
to  her  mother. 


"EVERYTHING  HAS  HAPPENED.'11  373 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

"  EVERYTHING    HAS   HAPPENED  !  " 

WHAT  spell  came  over  Ralph  Bramlett  to  cause 
him  to  make  so  strange  a  blot  as  this  upon  his  life, 
do  you  ask  ?  Oh,  who  shall  undertake  to  account 
for  the  doings  of  that  young  man  !  Yet,  after  all, 
it  is  in  keeping  with  his  general  character.  What 
was  he  but  a  creature  at  the  mercy  of  every  pass 
ing  impulse  ?  A  creature  of  fate,  as  he  persist 
ently  phrased  it,  never  being  able  to  understand 
that  he  made  his  own  fate  ;  was  constantly  making 
-it  out  of  materials  which  would  have  lent  them 
selves  as  well  to  quite  another  style  of  manufact 
ure.  He  had  by  no  means  gone  to  the  Schuyler 
farm  with  the  intention  of  rushing  like  a  madman 
into  temptation.  It  will  be  remembered,  perhaps, 
that  it  was  not  his  nature  to  act  upon  long- 
planned  intentions. 

Once  there,  he  had  given  himself  up  to  the  intox 
ication  of  Marjorie's  presence.  He  had  followed 
her  from  room  to  room,  feasting  his  eyes  upon  her 
face,  listening  to  the  sound  of  her  voice  ;  getting, 
so  far  as  was  possible,  every  word  that  she  uttered ; 
using  every  means  in  his  power  to  bring  the  spell 
of  her  old  influence  to  bear  upon  him  to  its  ut- 


374  MAKING  FATE. 

most,  until  he  was  wrought  up  to  such  a  pitch 
of  excitement,  that  for  the  time  being  he  com 
pletely  lost  control  of  himself.  Of  course,  he  was 
one  who,  never  having  trained  himself  to  self-con 
trol,  found  this  an  easy  matter.  The  longer  he 
looked  at  Marjorie  and  the  more  he  listened  to  her 
words,  the  more  hateful  seemed  the  fate  which 
he  believed  without  any  volition  on  his  part  had 
woven  her  meshes  around  him.  He  could  not 
help  speaking  irritably  to  Estelle  Douglass,  almost 
savagely  indeed,  more  than  once,  when  there  were 
not  listeners ;  sometimes,  as  has  been  seen,  when 
there  were.  In  a  certain  sense  she  represented 
that  baleful  Fate  which  had  ruined  his  life.  Why 
had  she  been  always  at  hand  when  for  any  reason 
he  was  especially  annoyed  about  Marjorie  ? 

Nay,  he  realized,  and  for  one  of  his  tempera 
ment  it  was  an  infinite  pity  that  there  was  a  de 
gree  of  truth  in  it,  that  she  had  done  what  she 
could  to  prejudice  him  against  his  friend,  and  to 
make  him  feel  that  she  had  changed  in  her  feel 
ings  toward  him. 

It  will  perhaps  have  to  be  confessed,  that,  creat 
ure  of  impulse  though  he  was,  and  acting  upon  it 
all  the  while,  there  had  been,  through  all  the  later 
months  of  his  life,  an  undertone  feeling  that  the 
present  condition  of  things  was  not  to  last.  This 
was  not  real  life  ;  it  was  simply  a  play  in  which 
the  emotions  were  engaged,  and  he  was  a  principal 
character.  He  was  engaged  to  be  married  to 
Estelle  Douglass  ;  he  had  quarreled  with  Marjorie; 


"EVERYTHING  HAS  HAPPENED."     375 

but  somehow,  before  it  should  be  forever  too  late, 
some  one  or  some  thing  would  interpose  and  set  all 
these  crooked  relations  right  again.  Fate  could  not 
be  so  cruel  as  to  take  Marjorie  away  from  him  en 
tirely.  Of  course  she  belonged  to  him  ;  why,  they 
had  known  it  from  their  childhood ;  everybody 
knew  it ;  none  better  than  Estelle  Douglass.  All 
this  was  not  deliberate  conviction  ;  it  was  under 
tone,  background.  It  was  not  allowed  to  influence 
his  daily  acts.  He  talked  with  Mr.  Douglass,  and 
with  Estelle,  and  with  any  person,  indeed,  who 
had  a  right  to  know  of  his  affairs,  quite  as  though 
his  future  was  mapped  out.  plainly  before  him. 
Yet  the  subtle  background  of  hope,  yes,  even  of 
expectation,  was  there  all  the  time.  When  he 
sought  Marjorie  that  evening  on  the  lawn  and 
poured  out  his  incoherent  statements,  and  pre 
ferred  his  half-insane  charges,  he  was  not  acting 
in  accordance  with  any  preconceived  plans,  but 
simply  following  the  impulse  of  the  moment. 
Had  he  planned,  he  knew  her  well  enough  to  be 
sure  that  he  was  using  exactly  the  wrong  words  to 
influence  her  in  the  way  that  he  desired.  Indeed, 
almost  as  fast  as  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth, 
he  regretted  their  utterance ;  and  as  he  saw  Mar 
jorie  walking  away  with  Mr.  Maxwell,  he  called 
himself  an  insane  fool. 

He  was  positivel}-  savage  with  Estelle  Douglass 
on  the  journey  home. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  last  time  we  were  on 
this  road  together  ?  "  she  asked  him ;  for,  either 


376  MAKING  FATE. 

by  accident  or  design,  those  two  had  not  been 
together  on  that  road  since  the  dreary  ride  had 
been  taken  in  the  early  morning  through  the 
November  rain. 

Of  course  he  did,  he  told  her  sharply ;  he  had 
good  reason  to  remember  it ;  he  had  been  a  fool 
then,  about  some  matters,  and  had  continued  one 
ever  since. 

This  was  suggestive,  but  ambiguous  ;  Estelle 
did  not  know  whether  to  meet  it  with  indignation, 
or  to  pass  it  by  as  unworthy  of  notice.  A  remem 
brance  of  Ralph's  present  mood  decided  her  on  the 
latter  course ;  it  would  hardly  do  to  be  indignant 
with  a  man  whose  own  indignation  had  placed 
him  beyond  self-control. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Ralph  ?  "  she  asked,  and 
she  tried  to  speak  soothingly.  "  Something  has 
happened ;  you  do  not  act  like  yourself.  Are 
there  any  business  matters  disturbing  you  ?  Tell 
me  about  them,  please,  and  let  me  help  you  bear 
them.  You  know  we  ought  to  help  each  other  in 
every  way  now." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  reminder. 

"  Everything  has  happened,"  he  said,  and  he 
spoke  even  more  roughly  than  before.  "  You  can 
not  help  me.  You  can  only—  '  He  stopped  Justin 
time,  having  almost  said  in  his  folly  and  passion, 
"  You  can  only  hinder  rne."  He  changed  it  to : 
"  What  do  you  suppose  you  could  do  ?  There  is 
no  use  in  telling  you  anything  about  it.  It  is  my 
confounded  fate.  Nothing  that  I  wanted  very 


"EVERYTHING  HAS  HAPPENED."  377 

much   ever  turned  out  as  it  ought  to.     I  must 
have  been  born  under  an  unlucky  star." 

She  decided  then,  poor  girl,  that  it  was  affairs 
connected  with  his  present  business  which  had  so 
disturbed  him.  There  were  days  when  he  chafed 
bitterly  under  control ;  resenting  the  right  of  all 
the  Snyders  to  "  order  him  about  as  if  he  were  a 
puppet,"  he  told  her.  Some  of  his  old  dreams 
and  ambitions  connected  with  the  law  had  prob 
ably  come  back  to  him  this  day ;  some  incident 
might  have  occurred  to  recall  the  hopes  and 
dreams  which  he  used  to  have  of  the  future,  and 
which  she  knew  he  had  put  aside,  having  decided 
to  make  his  relations  with  Snyder,  Snyder  &  Co. 
as  permanent  as  possible.  Yet  she  could  well 
understand  that  other  plans,  which  had  been  cen 
tral  with  him  for  so  long,  must  sometimes  push 
themselves  forward  in  a  mocking  way,  to  make 
him  miserable.  Was  it  fortunate  or  unfortunate, 
that,  coming  as  near  to  the  truth  as  she  did,  she 
nevertheless  missed  it?  The  old  hopes  and 
dreams  had  undoubtedly  been  recalled  in  vivid 
ness  that  night,  but  they  had  not  to  do  with  the 
law.  Estelle  had  missed  her  attendant  when  he 
and  Marjorie  were  on  the  lawn  together,  but  she 
had  also  missed  Mr.  Maxwell,  and  believed  him  to 
be  taking  a  promenade  with  Marjorie.  Nothing 
had  occurred  to  make  her  associate  Ralphs 
wretched  humor  in  any  way  with  Marjorie.  So, 
woman-like,  she  did  what  she  could  to  comfort  him. 
She  could  not  know — how  should  she  ? — that  her 


378  MAKING  FATE. 

very  voice  was  irritating  to  him  that  night.  She 
had  too  great  faith  in  him,  and  in. the  words  which 
he  had  spoken  to  her,  to  believe  for  a  moment  any 
such  thing. 

Yet,  despite  all  this,  it  must  not  be  understood 
that  Ralph  Bramlett  was  a  hopeless  hypocrite. 
There  were  times  when  Estelle  Douglass  was  able 
to  comfort  him.  At  these  times  he  assured  him 
self  that  she  was  more  fitted  to  his  needs  than 
Marjorie  ever  could  have  been.  There  were  days 
together  when  he  succeeded  in  convincing  himself 
that  everything  was  as  it  should  be,  and  that  he 
and  Estelle  would  get  along  nicely  together.  Of 
course  on  such  days,  he  expected  to  carry  out  all 
the  pledges  he  had  made  to  her,  and  planned 
accordingly.  Yet  there  was,  all  the  time,  that 
haunting  little  undertone  of  which  he  was  con 
scious,  whispering  that  perhaps,  some  way,  it  would 
all  turn  out  differently,  even  yet.  Undoubtedly 
this  is  a  contradiction.  It  must  have  been  observed 
by  students  of  human  nature,  that  these  seeming, 
and  indeed  actual  contradictions,  are  marked 
features  of  certain  temperaments.  Ralph  Bramlett 
was  fully  determined  to  have  his  own  way,  and 
carry  out  his  own  plans  without  interference  from 
any  source,  human  or  divine  ;  at  the  same  time  he 
was  absolutely  certain  that  he  was  not  in  the  least 
to  blame  for  the  present  condition  of  things,  that 
he  could  not  have  ordered  his  life  differently  had 
he  made  ever  so  much  effort,  and  that  it  was  in 
short  that  mysterious  imp  which  he  had  chosen  to 


"EVERYTHING  HAS  HAPPENED."  379 

name  Fate  who  was  responsible  for  all  that  con 
cerned  him. 

He  left  Estelle  at  her  own  door  with  the 
coldest  good-night  she  had  received  frofn  him 
since  he  had  told  her  she  was  the  one  chosen 
by  him  from  all  others,  and  went  home  angry 
with  her,  and  with  all  the  world.  He  lay  awake 
half  the  night,  going  over  and  over  again  the 
scenes  which  distressed  and  angered  him,  and 
bemoaning  his  miserable  fate.  Yet,  before  morn 
ing,  his  mood  had  changed.  He  called  himself  a 
consummate  fool  for  his  part  of  the  proceedings, 
at  the  very  moment  when  he  took  care  to  assure 
himself  that  had  it  not  been  for  such  and  such  cir 
cumstances  beyond  his  control  he  never  would 
have  done  as  he  did.  By  daylight  he  said  of 
Marjorie : 

"  Well,  let  her  go ;  she  cares  for  no  one 
but  that  fellow ;  nothing  is  more  evident ;  she 
even  talks  like  him.  It  is  just  as  well  as  it  is.  If 
he  hadn't  goaded  me  on  by  his  insufferable 
assumption  I  should  never  have  thought  of  making 
the  spectacle  of  myself  which  I  did  before  her. 
Something  for  them  to  laugh  over,  I  suppose, 
when  it  is  described  to  him  !  "  and  he  ground  his 
teeth  in  impotent  rage  at  the  idea. 

"  If  I  had  maintained  my  dignity,  and  had 
nothing  whatever  to  say  to  her,  it  would  have  been 
a  great  deal  better.  I  believe  I  will  write  her 
a  line  of  explanation.  I  can  call  it  an  apology,  by 
way  of  courtesy,  and  tell  her  that  I  was  disturbed 


380  MAKING  FATE. 

yesterday  about  business  matters,  and  ask  her  to 
excuse  the  ravings  of  a  man  who  did  not  know 
what  he  was  saying.  No,  I  won't ;  1  won't  do 
anything  of  the  kind.  I  will  just  let  things  take 
their  own  course.  Something  may  come  of  it, 
after  all,  different  from  what  I  imagine.  She  may 
really  not  have  supposed  that  I  continued  to  care 
for  her.  Perhaps  I  shall  even  hear  from  her  dur 
ing  the  day,  or  the  week  ;  who  knows  ?  " 

It  will  be  observed  that  no  less  than  three  times 
in  the  course  of  this  short  interview  with  himself, 
he  had  entirely  changed  his  view  of  the  question  ; 
and  that  he  understood  Marjorie  Edmonds  as  little 
as  she  had  him.  What  may  not  be  expected,  or 
feared,  of  a  man  who  is  so  reckless  of  his  opin 
ions  upon  all  subjects  that  they  can  actually  be 
swayed  by  the  passing  idle  thoughts  of  the  mo 
ment  ? 

It  will  be  readily  imagined  that  Mrs.  Edmonds 
lost  no  time  in  acting  upon  Marjorie's  sudden 
decision.  She  believed  that  it  would  be  an  ex 
cellent  thing  for  her  daughter  to  get  away  from 
home  and  its  surroundings,  for  a  time,  at  least. 
She  only  very  dimly  imagined  what  might  have 
occurred  to  rouse  Marjorie  in  this  way,  but  what 
ever  it  was,  while  feeling  the  deepest  sympathy 
for  her  daughter,  her  prayer  that  night  was  one  of 
thanksgiving.  Surely  it  was  better  for  Marjorie 
to  know  and  realize  the  truth.  And  if  it  had 
been  proved  to  her  that  Ralph  Bramlett  was  un 
worthy  of  even  her  friendship,  the  mother  knew 


"EVERYTHING  HAS  HAPPENED."  381 

her  daughter  well  enough  to  understand  that  she 
was  saved. 

Before  evening  of  the  following  day,  sundry 
plans  for  the  summer  had  been  discussed,  not 
only  between  themselves,  but  with  Mr.  Maxwell. 
That  gentleman  urged  them  strongly  to  select  his 
own  college-town  as  their  summer  resort ;  ad 
vocating  its  climate  and  surroundings  with  great 
confidence. 

"  To  be  sure,  I  am  not  to  be  there  myself,"  he 
said,  "  which  I  assure  you  I  regret ;  it  would  give 
me  great  pleasure  to  show  you  around  the  beauti 
ful  old  place,  and  exhibit  its  numerous  historic 
lions  to  you ;  but  I  am  unselfish  enough  to  want 
you  to  enjoy  it,  even  though  I  cannot  share  the 
pleasure  with  you.  I  know  of  no  other  spot 
which  can  boast  so  many  of  the  advantages  and  so 
few  of  the  drawbacks  of  a  summer  home.  Miss 
Edmonds  would  be  simply  charmed  with  the 
country  about  there ;  and  the  views  which  she 
could  sketch  would  be  unlike  any  which  she  has 
in  her  portfolios  at  present." 

Over  this  last,  Marjorie  laughed,  and  blushed  a 
little  ;  she  had  iijt  known  that  he  was  so  familiar 
with  her  sketches  from  nature.  She  had  come  to 
have  a  poor  opinion  of  her  work  in  that  direction, 
since  she  had  seen  with  what  a  free  strong  hand 
he  reproduced  on  paper  the  choice  places  he 
visited. 

It  was  perhaps  because  she  was  indifferent  as  to 
where  they  went,  and  also  because  Mr.  Maxwell 


382  MAKING  FATE. 

could  assist  so  materially  in  arranging  the  details 
for  this  one  place,  that  it  was  finally  chosen. 

"  We  will  go  there  for  a  time  at  least,"  decided 
Mrs.  Edmonds,  "  and  if  we  find  that  Mr.  Maxwell 
has  looked  upon  this  favorite  spot  through  prej 
udiced  spectacles,  why,  we  can  change  our  plans 
and  go  elsewhere.  We  will  leave  ourselves  un- 
trammeled  by  any  ideas  of  stability,  and,  for  this 
one  summer,  will  feel  as  free  to  rove  as  the  gypsies 
themselves." 

She  laughed  a  little  as  she  spoke,  and  cast  a 
swift  questioning  glance  at  Mr.  Maxwell.  How 
much  or  how  little  did  that  gentleman  understand 
of  her  reasons  for  action  ?  She  could  not  but  be 
grateful  for  the  gracious  and  skillful  way  in  which 
he  aided  and  abetted  all  her  plans.  Was  he 
thoughtful  for  her,  just  as  he  was  for  all  man  and 

womankind,  or  was  he But  here  the  mother 

resolutely  stopped  her  questionings. 

It  was  while  Ralph  B  ramie  it,  who  was  being 
kept  very  busy,  was  wondering  what  would  happen 
next,  and  trying  to  decide  just  how  he  should  con 
duct  himself,  if  he  should  meet  Marjorie,  as  he  was 
liable  to,  of  course,  on  any  day,  that  Estelle  way 
laid  him  one  evening  as  he  was  passing  the  door  in 
haste,  with  her  budget  of  news. 

"Ralph,  did  you  know  that  Mrs.  Ediponds  and 
Marjorie  were  going  away  for  the  summer  ?  They 
are  going  to  close  their  house.  Nearly  every  thing 
is  in  readiness.  It  seems  that  Mr.  Maxwell  has 
changed  his  plans,  and  is  going  to  start  earlier 


"EVERYTHING  HAS  HAPPENED."  383 

than  he  had  intended,  and  what  do  you  think  ! 
Marjorie  and  her  mother  are  going  with  him ! 
That  is,  they  are  going  to  his  old  home  to  spend  the 
summer.  I  wonder  they  do  not  go  abroad  with  him ! 
Marjorie  cannot  apparently  endure  the  thought  of 
being  entirely  separated  from  him,  so  she  is  going 
to  his  old  haunts  to  rove  around  alone  among  them, 
I  suppose,  while  he  is  away  in  Europe  enjoying 
himself.  Isn't  that  infatuation,  Ralph?  Isn't  it 
queer  in  Marjorie?  It  seems  so  unlike  her,  some 
way.  I  never  thought  she  had  much  of  the  senti 
mental  in  her  disposition,  when  you  and  she  were 
so  intimate.  Did  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  of  very  little  consequence  what  I  thought," 
said  Ralph,  "  and  I  am  sure  it  is  of  equally  little 
consequence  where  other  people  spend  their  sum 
mers — or  their  lives,  for  that  matter.  I  am  unable 
to  account  for  your  exceeding  interest  in  the 
movements  of  the  Edmonds  family.  Suppose  we 
dismiss  them  from  our  topics  for  conversation  in 
the  future  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  Estelle,  "  I  won't  talk  about 
them  if  you  are  so  particular;  Marjorie  and  I  have 
always  been  friends ;  and  I  thought  you  would 
like  to  hear  the  news  ;  especially  as  you  and  she 
used  to  be  so  fond  of  each  other." 

"  That,  my  dear,  is  another  point  which  I  am 
weary  of  hearing  harped  upon.  Can't  you  let  past 
things  alone?  " 

She  pouted  a  little  and  told  him  he  was  cross  ; 
and  she  believed  he  always  was,  when  she  said 


884  MAKING  FATE. 

anything  about  Marjorie ;  and  she  didn't  under 
stand  it.  Then  he  said  he  was  in  haste,  and  could 
not  discuss  even  such  important  questions  with 
her  at  present ;  and  he  laughed  a  little,  and  tried 
to  pass  it  all  off  as  a  joke  ;  adding  that  he  would 
try  to  call  later  in  the  evening,  or,  if  business 
detained  him,  certainly  to-morrow  evening,  when 
they  would  have  affairs  of  vastly  more  importance 
to  consider. 


TALKING  IT  OVER."  385 


CHAPTER   XXX. 

"TALKING    IT    OVER." 

ON  the  following  Tuesday  morning  Ralph 
Bramlett  looked  out  of  the  window  of  his  office  in 
the  distillery,  and  watched  the  train  whizz  by 
which  he  knew  was  bearing  Marjorie  Edmonds 
away,  with  Mr.  Maxwell  for  her  escort  Oh,  the 
mother 'was  there,  of  course  ;  but  he  ignored  her. 
He  had  told  himself  for  weeks  that  he  hated  her ; 
she  seemed  to  him  a  part  of  that  relentless  fate 
which  had  pursued  him. 

He  told  himself  now  that  Marjorie  was  gone,  at 
last,  out  of  his  life  ;  and  this  time  he  meant  it. 
There  was  a  dull  pain  in  his  heart  which  made  him 
understand  that  that  subtle  undertone  of  hope 
which  had  been  all  along  telling  him  that  some 
how,  out  of  all  this  obstinacy,  and  misunderstand 
ing,  and  miscalculation,  would  evolve  that  which 
he  desired,  had  proved  treacherous  and  left  him. 
That  rose-colored  future  which  had  held  itself  be 
fore  him  for  so  many  years  had  disappeared,  and 
only 'dull  prose  filled  its  place. 

He    was  Bramlett,  bookkeeper  in  a  distillery, 
and  under  engagement  of  marriage   with  Estelle 
Douglass. 
25 


386  MAKING  FATE. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  throwing  down  his  fountain- 
pen  with  an  angry  frown,  as,  having  been  held 
point  downward  while  he  considered,  it  pro 
ceeded  to  conduct  itself  after  the  manner  of  those 
interesting  instruments,  and  let  fall  a  great  black 
tear  on  his  account-book. 

"  Let  her  go  ;  let  everything  go  !  Fate  has 
done  all  the  evil  that  she  can  for  me ;  now  I'll  see 
what  I  can  do.  I'll  be  a  rich  man,  anyway.  I'll 
show  her  one  of  these  days  what  she  has  lost  by 
nursing  her  obstinacy  and  ill  humor  until  she  has 
ruined  everything."  His  pronouns  were  confused, 
'  but  he  very  well  understood  that  the  second  one 
meant  Marjorie  Edmonds,  and  not  fate. 

"  I  may  not  be  a  judge,"  he  continued,  in  cum- 
munion  with  his  worst  self,  "  and  I  may  not  be 
able  to  have  anything  else  that  I  had  planned,  but 
I  will  see  to  it  that  I  am  not  circumvented  here. 
If  I  am  not  a  millionaire  before  I  am  twenty-five 
years  older,  then  the  world  may  set  me  down  for 
a  fool.  I  see  my  way  to  so  much,  at  least ;  and  it  is 
not  a  very  small  thing,  after  all,  as  this  world  goes, 
the  time  was  when  we  used  to  talk  sentimentalism 
together,  and  assure  ourselves  that  we  did  not  care 
for  money  ;  it  was  honor  we  meant  to  seek.  Fool ! 
As  if  she  did  not  like  money  better  than  the  most 
of  them  !  What  else  attracted  her  to  that  whining 
hypocrite  ?  Estelle  is  more  honest,  at  least ;  she 
frankly  owns  that  she  is  fond  of  it.  Well,  she 
shall  have  it.  She  and  I  will  do  very  well  to 
gether.  She  will  know  how  to  spend  my  money 


"  TALKING  IT  OVER."  387 

in  a  way  to  do  me  honor.  If  I  only  knew  some 
way  to  convince  that  girl  -that  she  had  not  broken 
my  heart.  After  all,  it  is  that  which  hurts  most, 
I  believe  ;  the  thought  of  those  two  talking  it  over, 
and  laughing  together  about  the  spectacle  which 
I  made  of  myself  that  night !  What  evil  spirit 
possessed  me  ?  I  might  have  known  it  would  come 
to  worse  than  nothing.  If  I  had  only  kept  away 
from  the  Schuyler  farm  altogether,  nothing  of  the 
sort  would  have  happened.  I  believe  the  place  is 
bewitched;  there  has  been  nothing  for  me  but  ill 
luck  in  every  direction  since  I  went  there  before  ; 
and  I  shouldn't  have  gone  this  time  if  Estelle  had 
not  almost  forced  me  to  do  so.  That  girl  must 
learn  to  mind  her  own  business  better  than  she 
knows  how  to  do,  now.  Once  married,  I  think  it 
will  not  be  difficult  to  show  her  that  I  intend  to 
be  master  in  my  own  house. 

"  I'll  be  even  with  that  Maxwell  yet,  in  some 
way.  He  has  ruined  my  life,  but  he  shall  not 
gloat  over  it  always.  Talk  about  justice  !  There 
is  no  such  thing  in  the  world.  The  paths  of  some 
people  are  spread  with  roses ;  no  matter  what  they 
do,  how  dishonorable  they  are,  or  false,  every 
where  they  turn  is  sunshine.  Look  at  Marjorie 
Edmonds.  Where  could  one  find  a  specimen 
more  false  than  she  has  been?  And  she  deceived 
me  utterly !  I  thought  she  would  endure  anything 
from  me.  Probably  she  intended  to  deceive  me 
all  the  time.  I  have  no  doubt  but  that  they 
planned  it  together.  And  their  lives  must  be 


388  MAKING  FATE. 

crowned.  Everything  just  as  they  wish  and  plan. 
While  for  others,  a  relentless  fate  as  cruel  as  death, 
dogs  their  track,  overthrowing  their  most  cherished 
hopes,  and  bringing  their  best  efforts  to  nought. 
What  have  I  done  but  the  best  I  could,  all  my 
life  ?  And  what  have  I  had  but  reproach,  and 
misfortune,  and  misery  in  return?  Especially 
since  I  took  what  people  call  the  right  road,  and 
joined  the  church.  I  wish  I  had  not  done  that,  at 
least.  If  it  had  not  been  for  Glyde  Douglass  I 
should  never  have  thought  of  such  a  thing.  I 
believe  that  entire  Douglass  family  have  been 
selected  to  be  my  evil  geniuses.  Oh,  well — that 
is  only  a  sham  with  the  rest.  Money  is  the  only 
real  success ;  from  this  time  forth  I  am  going  in 
for  success"  Yet  the  sentence  ended  with  a  groan 
almost  of  despair,  and  the  poor  self-haunted,  self- 
destroyed  young  man  suddenly  bowed  his  head  on 
the  great  ledger  spread  open  before  him,  and  his 
strong  young  frame  shook  with  the  pain  that  filled 
his  soul.  Even  when  he  talked  with  himself,  he 
was  not  quite  true.  That  is,  there  was  really 
another  and  better  self  which  it  was  becoming  the 
habit  of  his  life  to  ignore. 

It  was  weeks  before  Marjorie  Edmonds  men 
tioned  his  name.  Then,  one  afternoon,  she  began 
suddenly  to  talk  about  him  ;  telling  that  early  and 
only  confidant  of  hers,  the  patient  mother,  some 
things  which  she  had  decided  that  she  ought  to 
know. 


"  TALKING  IT  OVER."  389 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  day,  and  they  were  sit 
ting  together  under  one  of  the  grand  old  trees 
which  Mr.  Maxwell  had  described  to  them  ;  Mar- 
jorie  had  just  sketched  it,  and  her  mother  was  crit 
icising  it,  when  the  daughter  began  : 

"  Mother,  you  have  been  as  good  as  gold  to  me, 
as  usual.  I  don't  suppose  I  can  ever  tell  you  how 
grateful  I  have  been  for  all  your  patience  with 
me, — but  I  feel  it  all  the  same.  There  is  a  favor 
I  want  to  ask  of  you,  but  before  that,  I  ought  to 
tell  you  something.  That  night,  you  know,  when 
we  went  to  the  party  at  Schuylers' — Ralph  came  out 
to  me  on  the  lawn  and  said  some  words  which  I 
will  not  repeat,  not  even  to  you,  because  I  want  to 
think  that  he  did  not  mean  a  great  many  of  them ; 
he  was  wild  with  excitement.  However,  he  said 
enough  to  make  me  understand  something  of  what 
you  have  felt  about  him,  and  have  tried  to  have 
me  see.  I  think  you  are  right,  in  part,  mother ; 
lie  could  never  have  had  the  character  which  I 
thought  he  had.  He — but  never  mind  now, — all 
that  is  past ;  you  will  understand,  mother  dear, 
why  I  do  not  speak  any  plainer.  Of  course  you 
are  sure  now  that  everything  is  as  utterly  past  be 
tween  us  two  as  though  one  of  us  had  died.  But 
that  does  not  hinder  me  from  wanting  to  help  him. 
From  words  which  he  spoke  to  me  that  night,  I 
feel  sure  that  there  is  misery  in  store  for  him  and 
for  Estelle  ;  not  because  of  me,  but  because  he — 
Mother,  he  does  not  have  right  views  of — of  any 
thing  !  I  do  not  understand  it.  I  have  thought 


390  MAKING  FATE. 

over  what  he  said,  and  wondered  how  it  was  pos 
sible  for  a  Christian,  even  in  the  excitement  of 
anger,  to  speak  such  words.  I  tremble  for  them, 
mother,  and  my  heart  aches  with  the  longing  to 
keep  them  from  wrecking  their  lives." 

Said  Mrs.  Edmonds,  speaking  slowly,  choosing 
her  words  with  utmost  care,  so  that  her  daughter 
might  feel  that  they  were  spoken  from  conviction 
and  not  from  prejudice.  "  Do  you  feel  sure,  Mar- 
jorie,  that  lie  knows  what  it  is  to  be  a  Christian  ? 
Has  he  impressed  you  at  any  time  as  a  man  who 
was  acquainted,  and  in  daily  fellowship  with  Jesus 
Christ  ?  I  am  afraid,  dear,  and  have  been  from  the 
first,  that  uniting  with  the  church  was  one  of  the 
accidents  or  impulses  of  his  life,  rather  than  a  de 
liberate  public  avowal  of  an  inward  change.  I  do 
not  necessarily  mean  by  that,  that  he  intended  to  de 
ceive,  but  rather  that  he  was  himself  deceived.  I 
am  afraid  he  thinks  that  religion  consists  in  joining 
the  church,- and  attending  the  communion  when  it 
is  convenient,  and  a  few  outward  acts  of  that  sort." 

She  did  not  know  whether  or  not  Marjorie  would 
be  shocked  by  such  plain  speaking,  but  the  girl 
made  no  sign  that  she  had  even  heard.  She  sat 
with  one  hand  shading  her  eyes,  and  the  sunlight 
glinting  through  the  trees  shimmered  around  her, 
making  a  beautiful  picture  for  the  mother's  eyes  to 
rest  upon  ;  but  there  was  a  pain  in  it  for  her. 
Was  this  sweet  young  life  to  be  always  shadowed 
b}'-  that  baleful  one  which  she  who  had  been  called 
of  God  to  shield  and  train  her  child, — had  per- 


"  TALKING  IT  OVER.'1  391 

mitted  to  be  so  closely  connected  with  it  ?  After 
a  few  minutes  of  silence,  she  asked  gently  :  "  What 
was  the  favor,  daughter,  that  was  to  be  asked  of 
me?" 

"  Mother,"  said  Marjorie,  dropping  her  hand  and 
turning  toward  her,  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  right.  I 
am  afraid  that  Ralph  Bramlett  has  no  personal 
acquaintance  with  Jesus  Christ ;  has  not  even 
sought  it.  And  he  is  a  member  of  the  church  \+  I 
have  heard  it  said  that  people  who  unite  with  the 
church  under  mistaken  ideas,  without  having  really 
given  themselves  over  into  Christ's  keeping  are  so 
hard  to  reach."  Silence  again  for  a  few  minutes, 
then  :  "  Mother,  I  am  sure  you  do  not  misunderstand 
me.  If  Ralph  could  be, — if  it  were  possible  for 
him  to  be  honorably  released  from  Estelle  Doug 
lass  to-morrow,  he  could  never,  never  be  anything 
to  me  ;  all  that  is  utterly  and  forever  past.  When 
one  actually  loses  one's  respect  for  and  faith  in  a 
person,  why  then—  But  the  favor  I  wanted  to  ask 
is  this  ;  you  used  to  like  Ralph,  mamma,  and  you 
have  been  good  to  him,  and  tried,  in  a  great  many 
ways  to  help  him  ;  let  a  little  bit  of  that  old  liking, 
or  old  pity  if  you  will,  creep  into  your  heart  for  him 
again — enough  so  that  you  can  pray  for  him  with 
all  your  soul.  Mother,  will  you  join  me  in  a  union 
of  prayer  for  Ralph  and  Estelle,  that  God  will  not 
let  go  of  either  of  them  ?  That  He  will  in  some 
way,  by  some  path  that  we  do  not  understand, 
nor  even  see  to  be  possible,  lead  them  to  Himself? 
For  I  am  persuaded  that  Estelle  knows  no  more 


392  MAKING  FATE. 

about  this  matter  than  he  does,  and  they  will  both 
have  ruined  lives.  Can  you  join  me  in  this,  dear 
mother  ?  " 

Mrs.  Edmonds's  manner  was  very  tender  and 
serious. 

"  Daughter,"  she  said,  "  I  want  you  to  feel  how 
entirely  my  heart  goes  out  with  you  in  this  desire, 
and  how  fully  I  will  join  with  you  in  a  covenant  of 
prayer ;  yet  there  is  one  thing  which  I  feel  that 
I  must  say  to  you.  Do  you  remember,  dear,  that 
even  Grod  cannot  force  people  to  yield  their  wills 
to  Him  ?  He  has  chosen  to  limit  Himself,  in  order 
to  make  us  free  to  become  all  that  grace  can  make 
us,  instead  of  being  mere  machines.  It  is  He  who 
cried  :  '  Ye  will  not  come  unto  me  that  ye  might 
have  life.'  I  do  not  know  Estelle  Douglass  very 
well ;  but  I  have  studied  Ralph  for  years  ;  what  is 
in  his  way,  is  his  own  undisciplined  will ;  and  he 
does  not  call  it  by  that  name  ;  he  says  '  fate.'  Do 
you  remember  how  often  the  words  used  to  be  on 
his  boyish  lips :  '  That  is  just  my  fate ! '  when 
really  what  he  was  bemoaning  had  nearly  always 
to  do  with  some  impulsive  folly  of  his  own  ?  I  did 
not  think  so  much  of  it  then,  though  I  remember  I 
.talked  with  him  more  than  once  about  it,  but  I  have 
seen  since  that  he  is  always  pursued  by  the  idea 
that  a  Something  outside  of  himself,  and  with  which 
he  has  nothing  to  do,  makes  his  misfortunes  for 
him,  and  oversets  plans  which  were  wise  and  ought 
to  have  prospered.  He  still  names  it  '  Fate,'  I 
think,  and  not  '  Self.' 


"  TALKING  IT  OVER.  393 

"  Now,  dear,  I  wanted  to  say  thus  much  to  you, 
lest  you  might  think  that  God  could  save  Ralph  in 
spite  of  himself,  and  grow  to  feeling,  perhaps,  if  you 
were  disappointed,  after  long  waiting,  that  He  was 
almost  cruel.  I  have  known  people  who  did  not 
understand  God  any  better  than  that — but  we  will 
pray  and  PRAY  ;  and  never  let  go  our  hold  while 
we  live.  That  is  our  part ;  and  we  will  be  sure 
that  He  who  so  loved — that  He  gave  His  Son, 
will  do  His  part." 

Mr.  Maxwell  had  been  abroad  for  five  weeks. 
There  had  come  from  him  two  letters,  addressed 
to  "  Mrs.  Margaret  Edmonds,"  but  inside  they  com 
menced  "  Dear  Friends."  Delightful  letters  they 
were ;  it  was  almost  as  good,  Mrs.  Edmonds  said,  as 
having  a  trip  abroad  one's  self,  with  all  the  discom 
forts  left  out.  The  week  folio  wing  this  talk  with  her 
daughter,  the  mother,  who  was  his  sole  correspond 
ent  from  that  family,  wrote  this  : 

''  My  daughter  wishes  me  to  ask  a  favor  of  you. 
She  has  been  studying  lately  with  deepest  in 
terest  the  verse :  '  Where  two  of  you  shall  agree,' 
etc.,  and  kindred  passages,  and  has  become  im 
pressed  as  never  before  with  the  power  which  lies 
in  a  union  of  prayer.  She  wishes  me  to  ask  you 
to  join  with  her  mother  and  herself  in  a  covenant 
of  prayer  for  the  young  man,  Ralph  Bramlett,  and 
his  betrothed  wife,  Estelle  Douglass.  We  have 
occasion  to  fear  that  neither  of  these  know  what 


•  394  MAKING  FATE. 

it  is  to  have  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  a  personal 
Saviour,  and  to  try  to  follow  Him  in  their  daily  lives. 
Marjorie,  through  a  certain  experience  of  hers, 
which  loyalty  to  her  sense  of  honor  keeps  her  from 
fully  revealing  even  to  me,  has  come  to  believe 
that  the  young  man,  especially,  is  in  danger ;  and 
that  unless  some  strong  Hand  interposes,  there  will 
be  the  moral  shipwreck  of  two  lives.  She  bids 
me  say  that  there  are  a  few  people,  whom,  it  seems 
to  her,  God  has  taught  in  a  peculiar  sense,  how  to 
pray,  and  you  impress  her  as  one  of  these  ;  there 
fore  she  desires  to  lay  this  burden  upon  your  con 
science.  We  know,  without  awaiting  your  reply, 
what  it  will  be  ;  for  by  the  same  token  that  we 
know  He  has  taught  you  to  pray,  we  are  sure  He 
has  given  you  a  heart  to  respond  to  all  such  calls 
as  these." 

It  was  a  dreary,  rainy  evening  when  Mr.  Max 
well  read  and  re-read  this  letter.  He  had  felt 
more  alone  that  day  than  he  was  wont  to  feel ;  in 
fact  he  knew  that  during  all  the  days  there  was 
a  curious  sense  of  homesickness  upon  him",  such  as, 
in  his  many  trips  abroad,  he  had  never  felt  before. 
He  had  turned  over  his  pile  of  home-letters  eagerly, 
sought  out  the  one  svhich  he  recognized  as  from 
Mrs.  Edmonds,  and  pushing  the  rest  aside  had 
given  himself  entirely  to  its  influence.  Evidently 
it  in  some  degree  met  and  ministered  to  the  home 
sick  feeling  at  his  heart.  Especially  had  he  read 
several  times  with  deepest  interest  the  paragraph 


"  TALKING  IT  OVER."  395 

commencing  :  "  My  daughter  wishes  me  to  ask  a 
favor  of  you."  He  was  conscious  as  he  read  it, 
that  there  was  a  quickening  of  his  pulses,  and  an 
eagerness  to  know  anything  which  this  daughter 
could  desire.  Was  there  anything  that  she  could 
ask,  which  he  would  not  be  willing  to  give  ?  Yet 
the  petition  had  a  strange  effect  upon  him.  He 
dropped  the  letter  at  last,  and  began  to  pace  up 
and  down  his  small  room. 

"  The  unmitigated  scoundrel !  "  he  said  aloud, 
and  with  suppressed  force  in  his  tones,  "  and  she 
is  giving  her  life  to  prayer  for  him  !  " 

Back  and  forth  he  paced,  feeling  the  place  too 
small  for  him.  He  stepped  to  the  window  and 
pushed  it  up  to  its  utmost  height ;  he  wished  him 
self  out  in  the  rain  and  the  darkness. 

"•  God  forgive  me  ! "  he  said  at  last,  "  can  I 
pray  for  him  with  all  my  heart  ?  Can  I  forgive  him 
for  the  mischief  he  has  wrought  ?  " 

He  sat  down  presently,  and  leaning  his  elbows 
on  his  little  writing-table,  covered  his  face  with 
both  hands.  There  was  need  for  heart-searching. 
Was  there  really  that  in  his  heart  which  prevented 
him  from  crying  to  God  for  a  soul  in  peril  ?  He 
got  down  on  his  knees  at  last,  and  prayed  like  one 
who  had  indeed  been  taught  how  ;  even  by  the 
Holy  Spirit.  But  at  that  time  his  prayer  was 
chiefly  for  himself. 

There  went  out  by  the  next  morning's  Ameri 
can  mail,  addressed  to  "  Mrs.  Margaret  Edmonds," 
a  very  brief  letter,  which  ran  as  follows  : 


MAKING  FATE. 

"  MY  VERY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — There  is  no  time  to 
write  a  letter  by  this  mail,  I  only  take  a  moment 
to  say  in  replyto  your  and  your  daughter's  request. 
Amen ;  with  all  my  soul.  God  bless  you  and 
her. 

"  LEONARD  MAXWELL." 

So  this  is  the  way  in  which  they  "talked  over 
together  "  Ralph  Bramlett's  affairs  ! 


THE    END. 


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